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<h1><a href="https://archiveofourown.org/works/26210341">Beloved Baseborn</a> by <a class='authorlink' href='https://archiveofourown.org/users/Katef/pseuds/Katef'>Katef</a></h1>

<table class="full">

<tr><td><b>Category:</b></td><td>The Sentinel (TV)</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Genre:</b></td><td>Alternate Universe - Different First Meeting, Angst and Hurt/Comfort, F/M, Historical, M/M</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Language:</b></td><td>English</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Status:</b></td><td>Completed</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Published:</b></td><td>2020-08-31</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Updated:</b></td><td>2020-09-25</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Packaged:</b></td><td>2021-05-06 08:35:47</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Rating:</b></td><td>Teen And Up Audiences</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Warnings:</b></td><td>No Archive Warnings Apply</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Chapters:</b></td><td>11</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Words:</b></td><td>28,918</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Publisher:</b></td><td>archiveofourown.org</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Story URL:</b></td><td>https://archiveofourown.org/works/26210341</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Author URL:</b></td><td>https://archiveofourown.org/users/Katef/pseuds/Katef</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Summary:</b></td><td><div class="userstuff">
              <p>When Sir James Ellis is rewarded with the custodianship of the Marcher fortress Handlow Castle and its estates, he encounters a young man to whom he is instantly attracted.  However, there are many reasons why their relationship cannot be easy or even acceptable.</p>
            </div></td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Relationships:</b></td><td>Jim Ellison/Blair Sandburg, Jim Ellison/Carolyn Plummer</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Comments:</b></td><td>33</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Kudos:</b></td><td>46</td></tr>

</table>

<a name="section0001"><h2>1. A Dangerous Fascination</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_head_notes"><b>Author's Note:</b><blockquote class="userstuff">
      <p>An historical AU first meeting, names have been changed slightly to reflect the times.  For any Medieval Historian purists out there, please don't expect pinpoint factual accuracy, as my intention is simply to create a believable universe for our boys!  :)</p><p>K x</p>
    </blockquote></div><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p>
  <b>Beloved Baseborn		<i>by Katef 	August 2020</i></b><br/>
</p><p><b>Part 1: A Dangerous Fascination:</b><br/>
</p><p><b>Naomi:</b><br/>
</p><p>Stretching languorously, Naomi sat up in bed, her graceful figure outlined against the weak sunshine streaming through her bedroom window.  Unashamedly naked, she smiled seductively over her shoulder at her bedmate, gratified to see the genuine approval in his sated gaze.  She tossed her long red hair so that it fell down across her back and shoulders in a lustrous curtain, as yet showing no hint of grey, and a tantalising target for her lover’s fingers.
</p><p>Grinning lazily, Herbert Whittingham had no intention of resisting such temptation, and reached out with a lax hand to stroke the gleaming tresses.  “Beautiful as always, sweeting,” he murmured approvingly.  “I’m sorry it’s been a while since I visited, but you know how things are.  The king is touring the Marches, and I have had to be on hand to show my fealty to him.  But at least I am not expected to entertain him at the manor.  That delight falls to the castle, and I don’t envy the Lady Caroline and Sir Richard that burden!”
</p><p>Naomi smiled and turned back to lay a gentle hand on his broad, hairy chest.  “It’s no matter, my lord.  I am simply grateful to see you whenever you have time for me.  And both Blair and myself so appreciate your patronage.  I am so lucky!”   
</p><p>“It is no more than you deserve, sweeting,” he replied.  “You are the light of my life, as is our Blair.  Oh, I am fond of my legitimate sons, to be sure.  And am grateful to my wife for bearing them for me to continue my line, but you know there is no love lost between me and the Lady Alise.   At best she tolerates me, even though she is happy to accept my generosity.  I know that she was disappointed in our arranged match, believing herself destined to wed someone of a higher rank!” he ended ruefully.
</p><p>“Surely that cannot be true!” Naomi replied, a frown creasing her pretty brow.  “You are a fine catch, my lord.  Any woman should be proud to wed you!”
</p><p>“Not when you are of the Fitzwilliam bloodline, my love,” he answered wryly.  “In comparison, I am but a lowly hearth knight, and she knows it.  But she is my wife, and an able chatelaine, and I respect her for that.  And she is a good mother to our sons also, so I cannot complain.  Especially as I have you to turn to when I need solace!” and he reached for her again, pleased when she melted against him once again.  He had a few more hours before he needed to return to the manor, and he intended to make the most of them.
</p><p>Some while later, Herbert lay relaxed, contemplating the red head resting on his chest and thoroughly appreciating the lissom figure sleeping in his arms.  Naomi was a treasure beyond price in his eyes, and he knew himself to be a lucky man to have found her.  But he was also well aware that he had been a blessing for her too, and he took a few moments to ponder on their time together and the twist of fate that had introduced them.
</p><p>Naomi was the only daughter of Jacob Sandburg, a Jewish moneylender who lived and plied his trade in the city of London.  He was canny and successful, but it was a precarious existence nonetheless.  Trusted by no one, his services used only when expedient, he, like the others of his race, was treated with disdain under most circumstances in a predominantly Christian society, and never knew when public opinion would turn against him, with possibly fatal results.  Jews were granted little protection, even from a king who had cause to benefit from their trade, and following the death of his dear wife Maryam, Jacob had wanted to provide as much security and comfort as possible for his beloved Naomi, even if it meant effectively selling her off to a gentile.   
</p><p>As it happened, Herbert had accompanied his overlord, Sir Richard de la Tour on a trip to London at the king’s command.  At the time, Sir Richard was having money troubles, although Herbert had not been apprised of the nature and size of the deficit.  Suffice it to say, his lord had need of a loan, and the easiest way to procure one was to seek out a Jewish usurer.  It wasn’t as if he intended to repay it after all; knowing that there was no way the Jew would be able to enforce compliance with their agreement.  
</p><p>On the advice of a friend, Sir Richard sought out Jacob Sandburg, taking Herbert with him, although Herbert wasn’t privy to the negotiating.  Instead, he was entertained by Jacob’s pretty and vivacious fifteen year old daughter Naomi, and he fell immediately in love.   Even after the deal was struck, Herbert had made an effort to visit as often as he was able during their stay, powerless to resist the girl’s charms, especially as all he had to return to was the cold marriage bed of a woman who despised him.  Jacob witnessed the man’s attachment to his daughter, and made a few cautious enquiries as to his status.  Satisfied that Herbert was probably the best chance his daughter had of securing a reasonable life for herself, he struck another deal.
</p><p>And so it was that when Herbert returned to the Welsh Marches, he took the young Naomi with him with Jacob’s blessing.  She might have been initially dismayed, but soon came to realise that her father had only had her best interests at heart.  And once settled in a comfortable cottage on Herbert’s estate, she had never looked back.
</p><p>That was nearly ten years ago now, and during that time she had borne him a son, who now slept happily in the loft above, the apple of his mother’s eye, and beloved of his father too.  
</p><p>Of course, the Lady Alise was well aware of her husband’s mistress, but although she sneered at the other woman’s existence, she didn’t complain overmuch. After all, while Herbert was enjoying Naomi’s bed, he wasn’t troubling her, and that pleased her no end.  She had done her wifely duty and borne him two sons, and as far as she was concerned, that was an end to her requisite sexual activity.  Let him rut with his Jew girl, and leave her well alone.<br/>
</p><p><b>Blair:</b><br/>
</p><p>Irritably noting the path of the sun through the cottage window, Herbert knew that he would soon have to move.  Duty called, and his few precious hours in his mistress’ arms were spent for this occasion.  However, he indulged himself in a few more minutes’ of relaxation as his thoughts strayed to the boy sleeping peacefully in the loft above, and a gentle smile tugged at his lips.
</p><p>Blair FitzHerbert was a delight, even though he couldn’t have been more different from his legitimate half-brothers.  
</p><p>Naomi had been barely sixteen years of age when Blair was born, which was possibly the reason behind his being somewhat premature.  He was small and sickly at birth, and Mother Zelda, the local midwife, doubted that he would survive.
</p><p>However, the baby clung tenaciously to life, and with the devoted care of his young mother, had thrived against all odds.  Although he would never be robust enough for hard, manual labour or soldiering of any kind, he was possessed of a gentle, sunny nature and quick intelligence as well as a face that would be beautiful in maturity in a purely masculine way.  Thick, curly dark hair, undoubtedly inherited from his maternal grandfather surrounded a face comprised of a smooth, broad brow, high, well defined cheekbones and a strong chin.  A small, neat nose sat above a lush-lipped, generous mouth and huge, expressive eyes the same shade of blue as Herbert’s sparkled with enthusiasm and delight in the world around him.  
</p><p>Herbert had been smitten by the boy from the outset.  A child created through love and mutual respect rather than duty, he determined that he would do the best for his bastard son as he could.  And so it was that at an early age Blair was placed in the care of Whittingham’s family priest, Brother Marcus, to be educated to as high a standard as possible.  And from the very first day, he had shown a remarkable intellect and capacity for learning such that his tutor had delighted in him, and dearly hoped that the boy would eventually enter the clergy even though his Jewish heritage might be held against him.
</p><p>For the time being, however, Blair was a much-loved pupil and companion, and Brother Marcus had to be content with that.<br/>
</p><p><b>Herbert:</b><br/>
</p><p>Having bidden a fond farewell to both Naomi and Blair, Herbert rode back to Whittingham Manor in a leisurely fashion, allowing his palfrey to dictate her own pace since he was in no hurry to return to the cold and judgemental atmosphere that no doubt awaited him at his family home.  
</p><p>Oh, to be sure he still loved the property, having inherited his childhood home as the third generation of Whittinghams to hold it, but Alise’s brooding presence had soured much of his delight.  
</p><p>A substantial, moated and fortified manor house, it was set in many acres of productive farm and woodland.  It was no castle, but was more than suited to a man of his status, and in most respects he was content with his lot.
</p><p>After the Conquest of 1066, when William the Bastard redistributed the lands seized from the vanquished Saxon nobility, a priority for the new ruler was to engage in a project to build a series of castles and strongholds along the Welsh borders, or Marches, in order to contain the rebellious native tribesmen.   For this task, he entrusted his most able and loyal commanders and subjects, one of whom was Sir Raymond de la Tour.  
</p><p>Sir Raymond was a ruthless, skilled fighter and proven strategist. Utterly loyal to King William, he set about building his castle fortress without delay, aided by his friend and right hand man, Sir Oliver Whittingham.  An impressive stone structure soon replaced the original motte and bailey construction, and Handlow Castle now dominated the skyline in a deliberate display of intimidation and control over the Welsh and defeated Saxon populations alike.  The settlement that had grown up around the castle was already a bustling community, benefitting from trading opportunities and the protection offered by the garrison within.  As a reward for his services, Sir Oliver had been granted custodianship of a substantial Saxon hall and lands within Sir Raymond’s estates, to be held in perpetuity by Whittingham and his heirs.  
</p><p>A grateful Sir Oliver had immediately set about replacing the original hall with the present manor house, and had even taken a Saxon noblewoman to wife in what was undoubtedly a love match despite their cultural differences.  
</p><p>Herbert was certain that he owed his impressive stature and his blond, blue-eyed looks to his Saxon grandmother, and his sons by Alise were cut in a similar mould even though his own father had favoured Sir Oliver’s dark hair, narrow features and lithe build.  
</p><p>He was well aware that he should be content with his lot, and chastised himself roundly for his dissatisfaction.  He had legitimate sons to inherit the manor after his death, and was regarded as a trustworthy, fair and able landowner.  He also had a mistress who would be the envy of any red-blooded man, and a son by her with whom any right-minded father would be proud.  
</p><p>He was a lucky man indeed, and firmly telling himself that, he finally spurred on his mare, and covered the remaining distance to the manor at a far quicker pace.<br/>
</p><p><b> Five years later: James: </b><br/>
</p><p><b>Handlow Castle: </b><br/>
</p><p>With an angry scowl, which was mostly self-directed, James pushed himself upright and away from his bed, well aware of his wife’s cool, appraising gaze following his movements.  Once again his damned sensitivity had ambushed him as he made love to Caroline, and he had come within moments of entering her.  Although he dared say that she wouldn’t be overly displeased – and indeed would probably welcome the fact that their unions were never prolonged – he still felt desperately unsatisfied with his performance.  It was a curse he had had to live with all his life, this inexplicable hyper awareness, and although in most cases he had learned to control and hide his reactions, at times like these his control slipped, and there was an end to it. 
</p><p>Reaching for his shirt and braies, he muttered over his shoulder, “My apologies, my lady, for leaving you so soon.  But I have to oversee the men’s training this morning.  With the king likely to descend on us before the month is out, I need to make a good impression.”
</p><p>He knew it was a weak excuse, but it would have to do.  It wasn’t as if Caroline would mind, having her own duties to attend to, and at least between them they had already managed to produce one child, even if it was a girl child.  James was more than happy with his baby daughter, christened Margot after her maternal grandmother; and since Caroline had believed herself to be barren, she had been overjoyed to find that she was mistaken, and positively doted on her daughter.
</p><p>Dressing hurriedly, James thrust aside the heavy drapes that curtained off their bed from the rest of the chamber and headed for the door, intent on making his escape.  His squire, Henry, jumped to his feet from where he had been waiting outside the door, a cheerful smile on his young face.
</p><p>“Good morning, my lord!  Sir Maurice bade me tell you that the men at arms are mustered in the training field, and the hearth knights are gathering in the tilt yard.  Should I get you your sword, my lord?”
</p><p>It was on the tip of James’ tongue to snarl a sarcastic <i>‘Yes, of course!  What do you think?’</i> but he controlled himself with an effort.  The boy meant well, and was utterly devoted to him, so certainly didn’t deserve his disgruntled ill-temper.  Instead, he forced a grin and clapped the youth on the shoulder.
</p><p>“Thank you, Henry.  And yes, fetch my sword by all means.  I don’t intend to use the tilt yard myself today, since Ajax is still favouring that foreleg, but no doubt I’ll join in with the sword play.
</p><p>“But first I’m going to grab a bite of bread and cheese to break my fast, so I’ll see you down in the hall, all right?”
</p><p>Henry smiled widely as if he had won a tourney all by himself.  “Certainly, my lord!  I’ll go and fetch it now!” and he shot off down the stairs, leaving a slightly bemused James smiling ruefully after him.   He honestly didn’t understand why young Henry, and the majority of his men and vassals should hold him in such high esteem, but he wasn’t about to complain.  All he could do was try and live up to their expectations as best he could.
</p><p>And that thought led him almost inevitably to ponder on his current situation, and how he had arrived here.  A combination of fortuitous circumstances to be sure, despite the ever-present threat of being caught out by his sensitivity.
</p><p>Making his way down to the main hall, he appropriated a cup of buttermilk and some cheese and bread to break his fast, contemplating his life as he munched on the food.  He knew that he was an unlikely choice for his station, insofar as his father was a successful merchant rather than a nobleman or knight of standing, but it was James’ own gifts and personality that had earned him the reward of Handlow Castle.  Not that he had any undue vanity at all, having worked hard for the privileges he now enjoyed.  
</p><p>At over six feet tall, James was a fine figure of a man, strong and battle-hardened.  From the outset, his father had realised that the life of a merchant was not for his eldest son, as the boy showed no interest whatsoever in trading.  And not only that, but he appeared to suffer from a strange malady, sometimes claiming to hear and see things he should not have been able to, and occasionally complaining that his clothing hurt him, despite being of the best quality.  Desperately worried that his son might be regarded as possessed or otherwise affected by witchcraft by others, William had insisted that the boy control himself as best as he could, and refrain from speaking about his condition.  And since he had a younger son who appeared to be much more suited to taking over his father’s business in the course of time, William willingly acceded to James’ request to follow a military path.
</p><p>It hadn’t been easy to place James in a suitable position, since he was but a trader’s son, but a certain knight who owed William a favour eventually offered to take the boy on as his squire, and James hadn’t looked back.  His prowess on the tourney field as well as in battle ensured that he was soon recognised as a force to be reckoned with, gaining considerable wealth in spoils and ransoms, and he managed, by sheer force of will, to keep his secret to himself.
</p><p>It was when James actually saved King Henry’s life during one of his frequent skirmishes with the French that he was granted the holding of Handlow Castle and all its lands and tenants following the death of Sir Richard de la Tour in a hunting accident a little less than two years ago.  Since the man had died childless, James was instructed to marry Sir Richard’s widow, the Lady Caroline, as was the accepted custom of the time, and he had done so without demur.  
</p><p>Although the Lady Caroline had had little choice in the matter, she accepted the king’s ruling with equanimity, since her marriage to Sir Richard had hardly been a love match either.  Sir Richard had been nearly forty years of age before being betrothed to the sixteen year old Caroline de la Mare, and at least Sir James was an attractive and imposing figure; a fair-minded and able administrator as well as a fighting man; and he was nothing but courteous in his dealings with her.
</p><p>Indeed, the only problem insofar as their union was concerned wasn’t really a problem at all in her opinion, although she would never deliberately draw attention to it.  She knew herself to be an attractive woman, and her previous husband had been a lusty man who had made frequent demands upon her, often to excess.  Many were the times that she was left with bruises, but even so, she had failed to conceive, and Sir Richard naturally blamed her for that.  
</p><p>In complete contrast, her new husband made few demands upon her, but when he did, their coupling was over and done so quickly that she was rarely troubled for more than a few minutes, and since he was obviously fertile – witness her quickening almost immediately with baby Margot – she wasn’t inclined to comment.  Oh yes, she knew that he was unsatisfied with his performance, even though he never spoke of it, but she was prepared to accept the situation as normal for them both.
</p><p>Down in the hall, James resolutely pushed aside his feelings of melancholy and resentment as young Henry approached with his lord’s sword.  Within minutes, he was out on the training grounds, joining in with the drills and impressing his men with his excellent swordsmanship; the hard, physical exercise and mental concentration working wonders in soothing his discontent such that by the time he took a moment to slake his thirst, he was in a much better frame of mind.
</p><p>Draining the last of his watered wine, James handed his cup back to Henry, then turned to face the main gate, a puzzled frown creasing his brow.  
</p><p>“Is anything amiss, my lord?” Henry asked worriedly, not having heard or seen anything out of the ordinary.  However, before James felt compelled to come up with a plausible explanation for hearing hoof beats from afar even over the din from the training grounds, a shout came from the lookout on the battlements, warning of an approaching messenger.  Even as James hurried across the ward, the lookout clarified the warning, identifying the messenger as one of Sir Herbert Whittingham’s men.
</p><p>Ordering the gates to be thrown open, James greeted the man even as he dismounted from his sweating mount, handing off the weary beast to one of the waiting grooms.  
</p><p>Dropping to one knee, the breathless young man addressed James courteously but urgently.
</p><p>“My Lord, pardon the intrusion, but I carry an urgent message from my lord Whittingham.  Sir Herbert is gravely ill, sire, and bids me deliver this message to you,” and he held up a rolled parchment for James to take.  “I fear my lord doesn’t have long, sire, and he begs that you send him your reply as soon as possible.”
</p><p>Breaking the seal on the parchment, James quickly unrolled it and scanned through it, glad that his father had insisted on his sons being both literate and numerate.  However, the contents were enough to make his frown deepen, and his lips thinned in both sympathy and consternation.
</p><p>Apparently, the older knight had caught a severe chill after being drenched in a downpour whilst out in the far fields checking his herd of breeding ewes.  Unfortunately, it was on top of an existing cough, and the subsequent infection had settled on his lungs along with a high fever.  He had been in and out of delirium, wasting away rapidly despite the Lady Alise’s care, and he did not expect to survive for much longer.
</p><p>Knowing that his elder son Oliver was ready and eager to take on the role of master of Whittingham Manor, and that Lady Alise and their younger son Edward would be well provided for, Herbert’s concerns were for his mistress Naomi and their son Blair.  There was no love lost between the two women, and Oliver and Edward despised their bastard half-brother, so Herbert knew that it was up to him to secure their future away from Whittingham.  He had therefore already tentatively broached the subject with Sir James, requesting that his overlord might find a place for Naomi amongst his wife’s ladies as a seamstress, and suggesting that Blair be taken on as a scribe or tutor.
</p><p>Now James had liked what he had discerned in the older man in the short time of their acquaintance.  Sir Herbert was well-liked by his people and acknowledged as a fair master and loyal servant of the Lord of Handlow Castle, whoever it may be.  James knew that it had been a sad loss to the man when Sir Richard died so unexpectedly, since the pair had virtually grown up together, but he had also overheard whispers and comments to the effect that of the two, Sir Herbert was considered to be the better man.  And that fact was borne out by his desire to do right by his beloved mistress and their offspring.  
</p><p>Although he had yet to meet the pair, James had promised to consider Herbert’s request, but in all honesty, had forgotten about it until this sad news landed at his door.  But he was an honourable man, and now he had to make a decision, and make it quickly if his knight had as little time left in this world as it would seem, so he bade the messenger rise as he replied. 
</p><p>“Go and find something to eat and drink, then take a fresh horse and return to Whittingham as soon as you may.  You may tell Sir Herbert that I accept responsibility for Naomi and her son, and shall ride over to see him myself as soon as I can, even as I hope that he may yet recover.  Go now,” and he dismissed the man, turning on his heel to return to the main hall, there to seek out Caroline and give her the bad news.<br/>
</p><p>------------------------<br/>
</p><p>As it happened, James was delayed for another day before he could set out for Whittingham Manor, having been called upon to settle a dispute between two of his tenant farmers.  It was an irritation he could have done without, but could not defer in his role as their overlord, but as soon as the matter was settled to the satisfaction of all concerned, he called for his personal guards to escort him on the short journey to the manor.  He would have preferred to ride alone, or accompanied only by his squire, but despite his success so far in maintaining the status quo with the Welsh on his borders, there were many outlaws and raiding parties operating out in the wilds, and he would be foolish indeed to risk being ambushed and perhaps held to ransom.
</p><p>What he had no means of knowing was that Sir Herbert had actually breathed his last within hours of receiving James’ positive response to his request, and his final act had been to immediately send word to Naomi and Blair to set out for Handlow Castle.  Even on his deathbed, Herbert was anxious that the pair remain out of the clutches of his wife and sons, and so it was that with heavy hearts, Naomi and Blair were forced to leave without even being able to pay their last respects. 
</p><p>With their belongings loaded into a small cart drawn by their single pony, they were accompanied by Naomi’s maid Bronwen and Colm, the young man who worked for them, and that was all.  So it was hardly surprising that a gang of cutthroats hiding out in the forest should consider them to be fair game.
</p><p>Approaching from the opposite direction, James suddenly held up his hand and his small troop immediately halted.  Tilting his head in an unconscious listening pose, James frowned as he heard the unmistakable sounds of conflict in the woods far ahead.  Turning to face Sir Maurice, his senior hearth knight, he snapped, “Make ready to fight.  There’s trouble up ahead!” and he pulled down his own visor as he spurred his mount on.  Satan responded with a will, although he was James’ second string warhorse after the lame Ajax, and James knew that his men were right behind him.  
</p><p>To Sir Maurice’s credit, he never even blinked, even though he heard no such commotion.  He had accepted long ago that it was simply a gift that his lord had, which made him a formidable fighter; always aware of danger before anyone else, and thus able to avoid unnecessary delays or possible ambushes.  
</p><p>Spurring on at the gallop, the troop burst through the trees at the outskirts of the thick woodlands, following the path of the rutted road running between the castle and Whittingham Manor.  Shouts and screams from up ahead were now audible to them all, and they drew their swords in preparation to do battle.  Within minutes they came upon a clearing, and the scene that met their eyes was unfortunately not an uncommon one, although perhaps in other circumstances it might have been vaguely comical.
</p><p>A group of ragged but well-armed bandits surrounded a small wagon, in which two women clung together in terror.  In front of the wagon, a slight, youthful figure in monkish robes stood astride a fallen man, wielding a quarterstaff which was probably taller than he was in a valiant but vain effort to keep his attackers at bay.  His face wore a mask of fear and furious desperation, and his breath sobbed in his throat as he fought to protect his small party, but the coarse laughter that greeted his efforts rang in his ears.  
</p><p>However, that laughter changed to angry snarls and shocked exclamations as the knights burst in on the scene, their swords glinting in the weak sunlight that streamed through the leafy canopy as they cut down the robbers without mercy.  It was over in a matter of minutes, and James pulled Satan around to address the young man, who was now leaning weakly on his staff, swaying in exhaustion.
</p><p>Swiftly dismounting, knowing that his men were dealing with the aftermath of the skirmish, he pushed up his visor in order to appear less intimidating to the young man.  Looking down at the crown of the bowed head, he reached out with a gentle hand and squeezed the youngster’s shoulder comfortingly.
</p><p>“Are you unharmed, son?  Can you look at me?” he asked kindly.  The youth raised his head, his stunned – and stunning – blue gaze meeting James’.  Despite the tear tracks on his cheeks, and his devastated expression, James was struck immediately by the young man’s attractiveness.
</p><p>“Y…yes, my lord,” the boy stammered.  “And thank you for coming to our aid, sir.  I don’t think I could have held them off for much longer…” and he tailed off as he hung his head again.
</p><p>“You fought bravely, son, and you should take pride in that!” James replied firmly.  “But who are you, and why were you travelling this road without a suitable escort?  Robbers are rife in this area, as well as marauding Welsh levies,” he added reprovingly.  
</p><p>However, suddenly the young man seemed to shake himself, and turned quickly to peer at the wagon, where two of James’ knights were carefully helping the two women down from their pitiful refuge.
</p><p>“Mama!  Bronwen!” he breathed, his panic-stricken eyes urgently searching their persons for any signs of injury.  
</p><p>Seeing that they appeared to be frightened, but unhurt, he sighed in relief, then suddenly looked down at his feet, those same eyes filling with tears again as he stared at the prone body he was still straddling.
</p><p>“Oh, Colm!  I’m so sorry, Colm!  So sorry!” and he dropped to his knees beside the dead youth.
</p><p>Looking up to meet James’ sympathetic gaze, he murmured, “Colm was my friend, sir.  He has worked for us for nearly all my life, and was like a brother to me.  But he was the first to fall, and I couldn’t help him!”
</p><p>James nodded again in understanding, but this was no place to tarry, because the dead robbers might well have reinforcements nearby.  
</p><p>“Come!” he commanded briskly.  “Let’s get your friend into the wagon, along with the ladies, and you can drive it.  I am Sir James of Handlow Castle, and I was on my way to visit Sir Herbert Whittingham.  You can tell me about yourself as we go.”
</p><p>The youth’s eyes widened at that, and he swallowed hard as he rose to his feet again to look James in the eye, even as he stammered nervously, “My Lord, I have to tell you that Sir Herbert died last night.  It was his dying wish that I bring my mother to you for protection, sire.  My name is Blair FitzHerbert, sire, and my mother is Naomi Sandburg.  I…um…don’t think we will be welcome at Whittingham now.”
</p><p>James frowned in consternation at the information.  <i> ‘S’truth!  The last thing I need is this added complication!’ </i> he thought irritably.  But as Sir Herbert’s overlord, he had a duty to visit the manor and pay his respects to Sir Herbert’s widow and sons, even as he had promised to look out for this young man and his mother.  Decision made, he said, “I need to complete my task, but under the circumstances, I do not expect you and your mother to accompany me.  I shall be on my way with half my men, and the others will return to the castle with you.   Sir Maurice will explain everything to my Lady wife, and I should be back by sundown,” and nodding briskly, he mounted Satan again, waiting just long enough to see that his orders were being carried out to his satisfaction before resuming his journey to Whittingham.  
</p><p>But as he rode, he couldn’t help but ponder on the young man and his mother, now on their way to Handlow.  And he couldn’t deny the instant attraction he felt towards Blair FitzHerbert, even if he didn’t truly understand it.   But he would deal with the consequences of his promise to the deceased Sir Herbert later once his duty was done.<br/>
</p><p> TBC....<br/>
</p>
  </div></div>
<a name="section0002"><h2>2. Unexpected Developments</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p><b>Part 2: Unexpected Developments: </b><br/>
</p><p>Handlow Castle, three weeks later: <br/>
</p><p>It was early evening, and James had just returned from a long day travelling around a distant part of his estates, meeting with tenants and vassals and generally reassuring himself that all was satisfactory.  It was a necessary part of his responsibility as overlord, but sometimes wore his patience as he was predominantly a man of action.  However, as he entered the main hall, his hearing immediately picked up on a rich, smooth voice, and he realised that young Blair was reading to Marcel, Handlow’s resident scribe.  Once again feeling compelled to follow the siren sound, he found himself standing outside the small wall chamber allocated to Marcel for so many years.
</p><p>As he basked in the sounds of Blair weaving the old man a tale of heroes and damsels in distress, James couldn’t help but think on how things had changed – mostly for the better – since he had taken Blair and his mother into his protection.
</p><p>Although at first suspicious and jealous, Marcel had quickly been won over by Blair’s cheerful good nature.  The old man had seen more than sixty summers, and his eyesight was failing rapidly.  Added to that, his hands shook so much now that he was hard put to set pen to parchment, and had feared that James might send him on his way despite the fact that he had served the both Sir Richard and his father faithfully for many years.   However, James had had no such intention, and the fact that he had been provided with a more than able replacement in Blair had proved to be a Godsend.  
</p><p>Smiling wryly to himself, James recalled his visit to Whittingham Manor on that fateful day.  Trusting that his men would see Blair and Naomi safely home to Handlow, he had paid his respects to the newly widowed Lady Alise and her sons, genuinely regretting the passing of Sir Herbert.  Although their acquaintance had been relatively short, he had come to like and respect the older knight, and knew that dealing with his eldest son in his stead would be far less pleasant.  The young man, like his brother, possessed an arrogance that Sir Herbert hadn’t owned, and after speaking with the Lady Alise, James was pretty sure where their attitude had come from.
</p><p>Although Lady Alise had been the model of propriety as befits a grieving widow, in James’ opinion she was less than convincing.  And when he mentioned that he had met with Blair and Naomi on the road, her expression had briefly turned positively spiteful before she managed to control her reactions.  
</p><p>All in all, James was led to believe that Sir Herbert’s mistress and bastard son were well out of Whittingham’s environs even if leaving had undoubtedly been a bitter wrench for them, and that opinion was strengthened when he was waylaid on his departure by the Whittingham’s resident cleric, Brother Marcus. 
</p><p>James’ smile became fond and thoughtful as he recalled that meeting, knowing that it had definitely influenced his decision as regards the young man’s future, something that he already felt certain was right and proper, if not even destiny at work.
</p><p>He had been about to leave the manor house for the return ride to Handlow when the monk had approached him, his manner somewhat diffident but respectful and determined for all that.  James had scanned him quickly, taking in the relatively short stature, the greying tonsure and kindly features and knew that he was prepared to listen to what the man had to say.
</p><p>“My lord, pardon my temerity, but if you please, I would like to speak on behalf of my student, Blair FitzHerbert.  May I have a moment of your time?”
</p><p>When James had nodded briskly and murmured his assent, the man had offered him a small smile and taken him at his word.  
</p><p>“I am Brother Marcus, Whittingham’s religious advisor, and since his childhood, tutor to Sir Herbert’s son Blair.  And I have to say that I have never encountered such a beautiful and worthy young man.  He is undoubtedly one of the most intelligent persons I have ever had the pleasure to teach, and his nature is equally appealing.  He is both literate and numerate, and writes an excellent hand.  He is fluent in French and Latin, and can also speak English, so could be a welcome asset to you when dealing with your Saxon tenants and vassals.  And as a dear friend and companion he will be hard to replace.
</p><p>“I say this because I would dearly like to see him and his mother granted positions in your household, sire, where they will be both safe and appreciated.”
</p><p>James had studied him carefully as he spoke, and had come to the conclusion that the man was completely without guile.  Grinning wryly, he murmured, “You make him sound like a true paragon of virtue, Brother Marcus.  Is he really so very perfect?”
</p><p>Brother Marcus smiled back at that, a mischievous twinkle in his eye.  “Maybe not entirely perfect, My Lord.  Who among us can claim to be so?  But he is as close to the mark as anyone I have yet to meet, and it matters to me what his fate might hold in store for him.”
</p><p>Easily recognising the sincerity in the monk’s tone and expression, James nodded again.  “Fair enough, Brother.  So, first I should tell you that both he and his mother should be safe in Handlow Castle by now.  I encountered them on the road, while they were being attacked by brigands.  They were both unharmed, and it seems that your young friend had done a mighty job in holding off their attackers until our arrival.  The maidservant is also unhurt, but I regret to say that the young man travelling with them was not so lucky.  I sent them all back to Handlow under the guard of half my troop, along with their man’s body, and I can promise you that I shall deal fairly with them both.  Does that satisfy your desire?”
</p><p>Brother Marcus had frowned briefly at the news, plainly upset about the manservant’s death.  “Thank you, My Lord.  You have indeed put my mind at rest, although I am sorry to hear about Colm’s death.  He was more than a servant to Blair.  Although he was a few years older than Blair, they grew up together and Colm was probably Blair’s best friend.  He will be much missed.
</p><p>“But it cheers my heart to know that Blair and Naomi will be safe, and I thank you from the bottom of my heart for that.  I will not delay you any longer, Sir James,” and with a smile and a polite half bow, he stepped back into the shadows of the doorway, and James had gone on his way, deep in thought at what he had been told.<br/>
</p><p>----------------------<br/>
</p><p>Back in the present, James shook himself out of his brief reverie, knowing that Caroline would be expecting him and looking forward to the bath she would have had drawn for him.  However, even as he made his way up to their chamber, he realised that the usual discomfort he had been suffering from the chafing of his mail shirt and grimy clothing had subsided, and for once he felt at peace with his sensitivity.
</p><p>And that was something else that gave him pause for thought.   He had lived with and endured the side-effects of his senses for so long now that he had grown accustomed to expect a certain amount of pain on a daily basis, but when young Blair was in close proximity, he was inexplicably at ease.  And it had to be said that it both unsettled him and comforted him at one and the same time.  But for now he wasn’t about to question the phenomenon, but accepted it gratefully for what it was.<br/>
</p><p>---------------------------<br/>
</p><p>If Blair had been welcomed and accepted into the household, so had his mother; albeit in a lowlier role.  Caroline had accepted the other woman’s presence without demur, recognising a soul in pain and in need of steady occupation to keep her mind from despair as much as possible.  Naomi was an able seamstress and willing worker, and her manner was pleasing if sombre.  Knowing her history, Caroline was inclined to grant her considerable leeway while her grief was so fresh and deep, especially as she herself freely admitted that she had no experience of any such emotion.  
</p><p>It was true that she actually envied Naomi in a way, feeling as if she was somehow incomplete.  Her own father; now deceased and unlamented; had been an autocratic nobleman, more interested in his only daughter as a means to advance his position; while her mother had been nothing but a down-trodden pawn in the marriage stakes.  Having her husband foisted upon her for expedience had quickly broken her spirit such that Caroline had known more love from her nurse than from her parents.
</p><p>And then of course, history had repeated itself when as little more than a child she had been betrothed to Sir Richard in the same way.  She had done her duty as best she could, but could hardly claim to be any more than somewhat discomfited when he died so unexpectedly, and that was purely because she knew that her fate would be to be palmed off on another ambitious nobleman.
</p><p>However, she also admitted that that hadn’t been entirely the case with her marriage to James.  No, she didn’t love him <i>per se</i>, and doubted that she would feel anything like as deeply as Naomi should he pre-decease her, but he was kind and considerate in his way, and didn’t impose on her more than duty bade him.  And since he had already gifted her with baby Margot, she truly had no cause for complaint.
</p><p>Watching Naomi working quietly but diligently in the window embrasure of her chamber, making the most of the light in the late summer evening, Caroline studied the down-turned head, wondering just what the other woman was thinking.  That she was grieving for the loss of her lover was a given, but Caroline hoped that at least she had taken comfort in knowing that her beloved son was secure in Sir James’ household.  It would have been hard indeed for Sir Herbert’s mistress to live under the thumb of the Lady Alise and her sons for sure.  Caroline herself had little time for Sir Herbert’s widow, because although she had found the knight himself to be nothing less than courteous, Lady Alise had made little attempt to disguise her contempt for the child bride Caroline.  She had made it perfectly plain that she considered her own match to be beneath her expectations, and implied repeatedly that she would have been better suited as the wife of the Lord of Handlow than as the Lady of Whittingham Manor.  So it needed no stretch of the imagination to conceive of the malice she must feel towards a woman who had had the ability and effrontery to charm her man and even provide him with a bastard son who he considered to be of more value than her own offspring.
</p><p>Sighing quietly, Caroline looked away from Naomi to look over at where Bronwen was gently playing with Margot, a small, sad smile on her face even as she petted the plainly appreciative and happily cooing baby.  She was glad that the young woman was so obviously suited to her new role as one of Margot’s nursemaids, since her presence in the chamber was of great comfort to both Naomi and the girl herself.  From gentle questioning of her new workers, Caroline had learned that Bronwen had been a foundling, left on the steps of the Whittingham chapel, to be discovered by Brother Marcus.  The only identification on the new-born was an amulet of Welsh design wrapped in her swaddling, so Brother Marcus had given her a Welsh name.  He had placed her, with Sir Herbert’s blessing, with one of the village women to bring up with her own brood, and as soon as the girl was old enough to work, she had been sent to Naomi to help with the care of the newly born Blair and also to work in the cottage as a general maidservant.  It had been a successful placement by all accounts – the two young women soon becoming firm friends as much as employer and servant, with only a few years between them in age.  Bronwen had also developed a strong, mutual attraction to Naomi’s young workman, Colm.   Thus it was that they both had cause for mourning, but were able to rely on each other for comfort and support, even as they gratefully accepted the whole-hearted comfort and support offered by young Blair himself.  
</p><p>At that point, Caroline turned her thoughts to that son, and pondered on what she made of him.  And again she conceded that perhaps she was less charitable towards him than she should be.
</p><p>He was indeed an attractive young man, and was never less than deferential and polite when he had cause to address Caroline.  His sunny good nature was never far from the surface, even though he genuinely grieved for his father and boyhood friend.  It was simply in his character to be cheerful and optimistic, even as he was unstintingly helpful and supportive, and it was hardly surprising that he was able to draw out glimpses of his mother’s innate vivacity whenever he visited her.  And Caroline hoped that it wouldn’t be so very long until she herself could witness that vibrant personality on a more regular basis once the worst of her seamstress’ grief had faded.
</p><p>Although Blair always wore monkish attire, as if he were a novice in some religious order, Caroline was ruefully aware that unlike Brother Marcus at Whittingham, the Handlow cleric, Father Anselm, had no time for the youngster on account of his Jewish heritage.  It was also likely that the boy’s greater intelligence and learning was another cause for jealousy and distrust, but there was little that could be done to remedy the situation.  However, she well knew that Marcel had quickly overcome his initial suspicion, and now positively basked in the company of his young assistant; invigorated by Blair’s energy and charm.
</p><p>As for James, Caroline wasn’t entirely certain what to make of her husband’s thoughts and intentions regarding the young man, although she had her own suspicions. For certain, he showed a great deal more interest in Blair than one would have expected in the circumstances.  Once provided with employment and security within the Handlow household as promised to the dying Sir Herbert, one would have thought that that would be the limit of Sir James’ concern, but apparently not.  James seemed to deliberately seek out the young man even when his presence in his role as scribe wasn’t required.  There was nothing apparently unseemly about such interest as yet, but Caroline couldn’t help but notice how much more relaxed James would be after talking with the young man, and she had to admit to a certain irritation that she couldn’t have the same effect on her husband.
</p><p>But she impatiently dismissed such unsettling thoughts, her concern turning to practicality as she called for a bath to be drawn for James, knowing that he would soon return from his tour, and would welcome the chance to bathe and refresh himself.  <br/>
</p><p>----------------------------<br/>
</p><p><b>Late summer, Handlow Castle’s Great Hall: </b><br/>
</p><p>Seated at the High Table, Sir James and Lady Caroline presided over the traditional feast that marked the bringing home of a successful harvest.  It had been a good year, and the feasting and celebrations were in full swing with as many of Sir James’ tenant famers as possible squeezed into the Great Hall, and those of lesser rank carrying on their own festivities either on trestles in the ward or out on the village green.  
</p><p>In other times and situations, such occasions had often proved to be a severe trial to James, his senses reacting badly to the over-stimulation of noise, smells and the general atmosphere created by packed humanity, but for once he was feeling comfortable and able to actually enjoy himself.  And he was certain that the reason for his present well-being was because of young Blair FitzHerbert, who was sitting further away down the board with his mother Naomi and Bronwen.  
</p><p>Shortly after Blair and Naomi had arrived at Handlow Castle, James had been at first puzzled by the gentle thrumming he could hear whenever the young man was near.  He had then been shocked to recognise that it was actually Blair’s heart beats he was hearing, but once that initial shock had worn off, he realised that the sounds were soothing to his senses, as was the young man’s personal scent.  He knew that he would recognise them anywhere now, even in a gathering such as this, and rather than fret about such an apparently strange phenomenon, he was now prepared to accept it for what it was.
</p><p>However, there was no way he was going to either confide in Blair or in anyone else for that matter, in case he should be considered to be raving.  He was simply grateful for the miracle he had been granted, and prayed that he could rely on the young man’s presence for many years to come.
</p><p>Smiling contentedly, he turned to look at Caroline, resplendent in a new gown of green damask.  She looked magnificent, and he had told her so in all honesty, to be rewarded by a soft and appreciative smile as she accepted the compliment as it was meant.  It was the creation of Naomi, and Caroline was more than grateful for the young woman’s expertise.  Indeed, James himself looked handsome and impressive in his red velvet court tunic, its edges picked out in gold thread in an intricate hunting motif.  Although no mean needlewoman herself, Caroline had willingly bowed to Naomi’s superior workmanship in such areas, so that they were both models for Naomi’s skills.
</p><p>And it had to be said that Caroline had taken no little pleasure in informing the Lady Alise of her gown’s creator when the older woman had complimented her on it earlier.  It had been blatantly obvious that Alise coveted the gown, and to find that it was the work of her deceased husband’s whore must have been galling indeed.  
</p><p>James had heard the exchange, and had smiled grimly to himself also.  He didn’t blame Caroline in the slightest, because it had to be said that, although he had had no option but to invite the Whittinghams to sit with him at the top table, their company was hardly pleasurable.  Lady Alise was a shrew in her poorly-concealed envy, and the young Sir Oliver was fast becoming a pompous prig.  Edward, the younger son, was still reasonably personable, but it was anyone’s guess how long that would last with his mother and brother’s constant influence and example before him.
</p><p>On their arrival with their entourage, Lady Alise had turned up her nose when she saw Blair and Naomi already seated in the hall along with the Bronwen wench and the elderly scribe Marcel, even though they were below the salt, but she knew better than to voice her discontent in view of Sir James and Lady Caroline’s obvious approval of the pair.  And since James was adamant that no disparaging word about their presence should be uttered in his hearing, she held her tongue, albeit with no little difficulty.
</p><p>Taking an appreciative sip of wine, James glanced over at Father Anselm.  Seated slightly further down the board, the man was greedily and single-mindedly stuffing himself with as much of James’ good wine and food that he get hold of.  Not for the first time James wished that he could exchange clerics with the Whittingham household.  He would so much prefer to have Brother Marcus as Handlow Castle’s priest, and that thought made him look down the hall to study the small but convivial group who captured his attention.   Brother Marcus had chosen to sit with Blair, Naomi, Marcel and Bronwen, and their mutual affection and regard was clear to see.  Although he knew it to be impolite, James opened his hearing enough so that he could eavesdrop on their conversation, smiling gently at their innocent pleasure.  He knew full well that he should shut down his hearing when the topic of conversation turned to Blair and Naomi’s placement in the castle, but he found himself unable to do so as young Blair waxed lyrical about how happy he was to work with Marcel, and how grateful he was for the opportunity to make use of his education. 
</p><p>Satisfied with what he had heard, James pulled back his hearing and concentrated instead on conversing politely with his wife and guests.  Once the feasting was done, the entertainments would begin with the entrance of jongleurs and acrobats before dancing continued until late into the night.  </p><p>He knew that he would be expected to lead off the dancing with Caroline, but for once he wasn’t troubled by the idea.  Caroline looked positively radiant, and he felt far better and more contented than he would ever have believed when he first arrived at Handlow.
</p><p>But what he didn’t yet realise was that Caroline was pregnant again, much to her delight, although she had no intention of admitting to it until she was certain and the baby had quickened in her womb.  <br/></p>
  </div></div>
<a name="section0003"><h2>3. A Steady Progress</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p><b>Part 3: A Steady Progress:</b><br/>
</p><p><b>Three months later: </b><br/>
</p><p>It was a dank and dismal day in December, with a few snowflakes drifting down in the chill air, but as he made his way across the muddy ward towards the main gate, Blair was cheerful nonetheless.  He was warmly wrapped in the cloak and warm clothing his mother had made for him, and he had an errand to run in the town for Marcel, and as always he was eager to help the old man as much as he could.  And if it was a good excuse to enjoy the hustle and bustle of the marketplace, then so much the better.
</p><p>And it had to be said that he really liked the clothes Naomi sewed for him.  Created from unwanted bolt ends and off-cuts which Caroline was pleased to give to her seamstress in gratitude for her excellent work, the fabrics were of good quality and of course, the garments were beautifully executed. 
</p><p>Over the weeks and months he had resided in the castle, he had gradually abandoned his monkish robe, quickly realising that Father Anselm disapproved of it – and Blair himself, truth be told.   The narrow-minded, self-righteous cleric had made his opinions on a half-Jewish bastard very clear, even if he was careful not to air his ill-tempered views openly before Sir James, and Blair knew better than to try to put himself forward or gainsay the miserable old curmudgeon.  It was what it was, and in all honesty, it didn’t bother him as much as he thought it would since he was gainfully occupied in his role as Marcel’s assistant scribe, and used any spare time he had to keep studying as much as he could; his unquenchable thirst for knowledge ever-present.  If he wasn’t meant to follow a religious path, then so be it.  And he was also excited because he had just been interviewed by Sir James, and was now looking forward to an even more important role as his lord’s translator.  
</p><p>Already fluent in Latin, French and English, Blair had previously picked up a smattering of Welsh which he was now practicing diligently with the good-natured cooperation of one of Sir James’ Welsh grooms.  Hywel was a pleasant, cheerful young man, who was happy to converse with Blair, especially as he was attracted to Bronwen, who he admired from afar and he trusted in Blair to drop a positive word or two in her ear on Hywel’s behalf.  Of course, Blair was happy to do so for his friend, and having an excellent ear for languages, this extra string to his bow meant that he was likely to prove invaluable to Sir James in his dealings with his English tenants and serfs and also his Welsh neighbours.  So come the Spring when the weather had improved enough to venture out again, the young man could now look forward to accompanying Sir James on his tours around his estates, ready to translate as appropriate whenever needed.
</p><p>It was an exciting prospect, not least because he admired his lord very much, although it wasn’t his place to say so.  And if his imaginings sometimes led to a heated stirring in his groin, he tried not to dwell on them overmuch.
</p><p>As he walked, Blair smiled to himself as his thoughts turned to the upcoming Winter Solstice and the Yule and Christmas celebrations.  He was truly looking forward to being able to experience the festivities, since he and Naomi had never had the chance to do so before in such a wonderful setting.  They had not been welcome at Whittingham Manor, and so any celebrations in which they had been able to join were limited to the efforts of the local peasantry.  High–spirited and as enjoyable as their lowly neighbours could make them, yet Blair was sure that the castle’s traditions would be wondrous indeed.  He had thoroughly enjoyed the harvest festivities, and was certain that the prolonged Christmas season would be even better.  And it had to be said that he truly hoped that both Naomi and Bronwen would be of a mind now to enjoy themselves.  He knew that their grief had been great indeed, as had his for the loss of Colm, but he was also sure that it was time for them both to embrace life and happiness again, because they were both still relatively young women; too young to shut themselves away for the rest of their lives.  Although Blair would soon turn sixteen, Naomi was only in her early thirties, and Bronwen in her late twenties at most.  
</p><p>Continuing in the same train of thought, Blair pondered on his own feelings on the loss of his father, wondering if perhaps he wasn’t grieving enough?  It was true that he had been fond of Sir Herbert, and had enjoyed his father’s company and appreciated his generosity towards him and Naomi.  But in all honesty, his visits had been few and far between, and never for any length of time.  A few snatched hours here and there – enough for his mother and Sir Herbert to reconnect and enjoy each other and satisfy their need for both physical and spiritual affection – and that was about it.  For all his kindness, Sir Herbert had hardly been a real father-figure for the young Blair, although perhaps it could be said that it had been no better for his legitimate sons either, since Naomi always maintained that her lover professed to prefer her son to the Lady Alise’s offspring.  
</p><p>Shaking himself firmly out of his somewhat depressing introspection, he quickened his step as he passed through the castle gate and headed down the road into the town.  His happy grin quickly reasserted itself as he anticipated the upcoming enjoyment and stimulation he would gain from interacting with the locals, because even in this miserable winter weather, the community was still a hive of activity. 
</p><p>The settlement that had grown up around Handlow Castle and taken its name had quickly developed into a thriving little market town, with a church, marketplace and more substantial buildings already beginning to replace the original scattering of huts and cottages.  All manner of tradesmen plied their wares from many stalls and shops; from ale houses to armourers; and bakers to blacksmiths, and Blair loved looking his fill at the bounty available for those who could afford it.  For certain, there were areas where it wasn’t prudent to venture alone, like down by the riverside where goods were landed from the barges carrying them upriver, and disreputable institutions proliferated, but he avoided those, and instead thoroughly enjoyed chatting to the many acquaintances he had already made in the town.  
</p><p>Although his errand today was to go to the shoemaker’s in order to collect Marcel’s new winter boots, he paused as he passed the smithy, admiring a magnificent dagger on display on the counter.  It was beautifully crafted in the English style, with stylised, intricate zoomorphic figures intertwined around the haft, and a pattern-welded blade.  Garnet eyes glinted in the weak sunlight trying to break through the heavy clouds, and Blair couldn’t help but sigh in appreciation of such skill.  
</p><p>“You like what you see, young Blair?” a hearty voice boomed from within the shop, and Blair looked up to grin at the speaker.
</p><p>Aelfric was a huge Saxon, blond and bearded and bulging with solid muscle as befitting his trade.  But he was a kind man beneath the imposing exterior; at least to those who he liked and trusted.  And one of those was Blair.  
</p><p>Replying in English, Blair chuckled as he said, “Oh, yes, Aelfric!  It’s a wonderful piece to be sure!  You have such skill, and I admit to being very envious!  Is it made for anyone in particular?”
</p><p>The big man nodded as he stepped forward.  “Yes, son, it was commissioned by the Lord James.  For a Norman, he has an eye for a good, well-crafted piece, and unlike some, he doesn’t quibble about the price as long as it is fair.  I thought perhaps you were here to collect it for him?”
</p><p>Blair shook his head ruefully.  “No, I’m afraid not, Aelfric.  Today I’m here to collect Marcel’s new boots, nothing more.  But I so enjoy looking around while I can.  And meeting with my friends!” he added with a warm smile and a twinkling eye.  
</p><p>Aelfric responded with a wide grin of his own.  “Well, it’s good to see you too, young Blair.  There aren’t so many from the castle who can be bothered to pass the time of day with the likes of me, and in my own tongue too.  And to show my appreciation, I’d like to give you this,” and he reached into the shop and pulled out a heavy, decorated brooch, perfect for securing a winter cloak.
</p><p>Blair’s eyes rounded in astonishment at the gift as it was offered to him to take.  “Oh, Aelfric!  I can’t take this!  It’s far too good for the likes of me!”
</p><p>“If you <i>don’t</i> take it, I shall be very offended, young Blair!” Aelfric responded smartly, pushing the brooch into Blair’s slightly shaking hand.  And what else could Blair do but accept with grace and pleasure, his gratitude and delight sparkling in his eyes.  He immediately took out the plain pin that held his cloak and replaced it with the new brooch, his eyes gleaming in real joy as he smiled up at the huge smith.  
</p><p>“Thank you, Aelfric.  Thank you so much!” he said earnestly, and shook the big man’s huge, calloused paw in both of his hands.  “And the very best of the coming season to you and yours!”
</p><p>Aelfric grinned and slapped him on the shoulder.  “You’re most welcome young Blair!  Now, be off with you and get those boots!” and with another smile and cheery wave, Blair did as he was bid, continuing on his way with an extra bounce to his step as he revelled in the feeling of warmth and gratitude for his unexpected gift.
</p><p>As he made his way to the shoemaker’s to complete his errand, Blair remained conscious of his beautiful gift, and well aware of the generosity of spirit behind the gesture.  Having collected the boots, he spent a while longer enjoying the sights and sounds of the marketplace, beaming at all and sundry and generally cheering up everyone he met before returning to the castle.
</p><p>Unbeknown to him, however, he was being observed, but not in any hostile way.  
</p><p>James was also in the town that day, and was immediately aware of his young scribe’s presence, so he was at pains to make certain that Blair didn’t know he was being followed.  He had his own reasons for secrecy, and once he was sure that the lad was well on his way home, James approached Aelfric’s booth.  He was more than satisfied with the craftsmanship of the dagger he had ordered, so between his broken English and Aelfric’s equally broken Norman French, the transaction was completed to both men’s satisfaction.  Sheathing the weapon in a fine leather and sheepskin lined scabbard, he turned to go, a self-satisfied smirk on his handsome face as he imagined the expression on the recipient’s face when the gift was presented. <br/>
</p><p>--------------------------<br/>
</p><p>It was Christmas Day, and the household gathered in the main hall for the traditional distribution of gifts.  The family had attended Mass the previous evening in the castle’s private chapel, along with the hearth knights and other more prestigious members of the household, and all now looked forward to the feasting and celebrations beginning later on that day.  A mighty Yule log burned in the huge fireplace, and the trestles were filled with bread, cheese and dried fruit for those present to break their fast. 
</p><p>James and Caroline presided over the gathering, and baby Margot, who was now toddling enthusiastically and into everything, was being watched over by her eagle-eyed nurses, Edith and Bronwen.  Naomi had also been persuaded to attend, and was smiling gently at Margot’s antics, a sure sign, in Blair’s view, that she was finally beginning to take pleasure in the life of the castle and the world around her again.  Unsurprisingly, she hadn’t attended Mass, although she wasn’t a practicing Jew by any means, but Blair had, despite the swift but malevolent glance Father Anselm had thrown at him.
</p><p>At present, Blair was sitting beside Henry, Sir James’ squire, with whom he had struck up a firm friendship.  They were much of an age, so had gravitated towards each other, finding a great deal of pleasure in each other’s company whenever they had the chance to get together.  It was a different sort of friendship than the one Blair had had with the late and still much-lamented Colm, but he appreciated it for what it was anyway.  In Blair’s early years, he had had little opportunity to interact with many young people at all, and the fact that Colm worked for his mother simply put him in the right place at the right time while Blair was growing up.  And luckily for both young men, they had forged a real friendship despite the differences in their status and education.  
</p><p>Now, however, Blair enthusiastically absorbed everything Henry could tell him about his duties as their lord’s squire, especially his descriptions of the many situations, both dangerous and otherwise, in which men at arms, and knights in particular could find themselves.   Blair wasn’t sure that he would be able to fight like that even if he was ever likely to get the chance to train for it like Henry, although he was well aware that he might on occasion be expected to defend himself, especially once he started accompanying Sir James on his progresses around his estates.  And after all, he had had to attempt do so already on their ill-fated journey from Whittingham to Handlow Castle, but he tried not to think about that.
</p><p>As for Henry, he was more than happy to listen to Blair when he read to his friend, or told him of the many things he had learned on all manner of subjects.  Blair was also teaching him to read and write, because as the younger son of a minor knight and nobleman, he had never been given the opportunity.  It was a mutually satisfying friendship, and both young men appreciated it.
</p><p>Now, however, their rapt attention turned to Sir James, who was addressing the gathering in advance of the gift-giving, eager to see what items were being bestowed on those lucky recipients even if neither youth expected anything for themselves. <br/>
</p><p>------------------------------<br/>
</p><p>James and Caroline had already exchanged their gifts in the privacy of their chamber, both of them more than satisfied with what they had received.  Caroline had presented James with another new court robe, this time in royal blue velvet, and had cheerfully admitted that she had left the intricate embroidery once more to Naomi to complete.  And as James had said, as he placed a gentle hand on her softly rounded belly, she had already given him a gift beyond price.  Thanks to the evidence provided by his senses, he had already suspected her condition even before she shyly admitted to it, but had been at pains to appear suitably surprised and pleased.  Because he truly was pleased; and grateful for her honest pleasure and satisfaction in being able to provide another child for her lord.
</p><p>He had then presented her with the jewellery he had commissioned from the silversmith in Handlow town.  It was a set comprising of necklace, ring and bracelet, the sapphires complementing her new Christmas gown, which Naomi had designed and created for her.  Loose and flowing, it accommodated her expanding waistline while remaining elegant and attractive, and Caroline was more than pleased with the whole ensemble.   
</p><p>As the pair sat together at the high table, their mutual content and affection was clear to see.  It might have been a match of convenience, and Caroline didn’t love her husband in the way of romantic tales, but she was happy enough with her lot, fully appreciating James’ genuine care for her.  And she recognised that his honesty, honour and strength of character was far greater than any man’s that she had previously experienced, and she truly hoped that this child would be a boy child, and an heir to continue James’ line.
</p><p>As for James, it had to be said that he was equally satisfied with his wife, knowing only too well that he might have been required to wed with a harpy like the Lady Alise.  He supposed somewhat cynically that it would have been a relatively small price to pay for the honour of being granted Handlow Castle’s guardianship, but the fact that Caroline was attractive, intelligent and accommodating was a bonus indeed.
</p><p>And if he secretly longed for another type of companionship, he kept such thoughts to himself. <br/>
</p><p>-------------------------------<br/>
</p><p>As the gifting got underway, James began by presenting a sum of money to William of Chester, Handlow Castle’s seneschal, in recognition of his loyal service.  A quietly competent man, William had acted as the castle’s major-domo for more than a decade, following in the footsteps of his father.  Initially serving under Sir Richard, he had always treated Caroline with courtesy and respect, and James had no reason to wish to replace him.
</p><p>Next came a suitable donation to Father Anselm for the chapel in the form of a silver chalice, and James was wryly amused to see the avaricious gleam in the cleric’s eyes as he received it.  
</p><p>The gifting continued with James and Caroline presenting either small sums of money or items to their retainers in order of rank, until finally James looked over to where Blair was sitting, raptly watching the scene and showing not the least bit of envy as he smiled warmly at the reactions of the recipients.  It had plainly never occurred to him that he would receive anything, believing that he had reward enough simply by being granted the security of a place in Sir James’ household.  
</p><p>It was therefore more than a shock when he was called forward, even Caroline looking askance at her husband at the unexpected development.  
</p><p>His attractive face betraying his consternation, Blair knelt nervously at James’ feet, wondering if he had done something wrong.  He wracked his brains trying to identify an instance of unintentional wrongdoing even as he glanced upwards to meet James’ stern gaze.  However, he was totally bemused when James smiled somewhat dryly and presented Blair with nothing less than the beautiful dagger he had so admired at Aelfric’s smithy.  Mouth falling open in pure astonishment, Blair’s eyes lifted from the dagger lying in his shaking hands to meet Sir James’ sardonic gaze.
</p><p>“M…my lord, wh…what did I do to deserve this?” he stammered, expecting at any moment that the dagger would be snatched back and that this was just a rather painful joke at his expense.  
</p><p>Instead, James simply smiled and shrugged dismissively.  “You’ll need some form of defence when you start riding with me as my translator, young man, and I think you should look the part.  ‘Tis but a dagger after all!” he said, his face and calm demeanour betraying nothing of the pleasure he was getting out of the boy’s delighted amazement.  And if anyone present had the temerity to complain that the gift smacked of favouritism, then they had better keep their envy to themselves or learn the errors of their ways in retaliation from their lord and master. 
</p><p>One thing was certain, however, and that was that this was a Christmas young Blair FitzHerbert would never forget. <br/></p>
  </div></div>
<a name="section0004"><h2>4. Expanding Horizons</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p><b>Part 4: Expanding Horizons: </b><br/>
</p><p>Some weeks later: <br/>
</p><p>The days were getting longer, and the bitter winter weather that had settled on the land after Christmas was finally beginning to loosen its grip.  The first of the Spring lambs would start to arrive soon, and folks began to look further afield than their own back yards, eagerly anticipating milder conditions and a respite from the relentless cold.  It was also time for James to start planning to visit the furthermost reaches of his lands, as Caroline was expecting her baby to arrive around Eastertide, and he wanted to be back before then.  
</p><p>He had also been invited to visit with Earl Ranulf of Chester during the same journey as their lands bordered each other’s at the northernmost point of James’ estates.  Although it could hardly be said that James liked or approved of the earl, who was a ruthless and self-centred tyrant, the man had the ear of the king, and was one of the most powerful of the Marcher barons, so it wouldn’t do to offend him.  He hadn’t hinted at what he wanted to discuss with James, but James had a nasty suspicion that the earl might have ideas about betrothing little Margot to his youngest son, with a view to consolidating their families’ mutual standing in the fullness of time.  Certainly it was a regular and accepted practice among the nobility, but James found it distasteful, and didn’t like to think of his sweet Margot as a pawn in a power game.  And the concept of Earl Ranulf as Margot’s future father-in-law was chilling indeed.
</p><p>However, nothing was yet set in stone, and he told himself that he might be completely off the mark in his imaginings, so he concentrated instead on readying himself and his retinue for the upcoming trip.  And it had to be said that one of the most pleasant aspects of the whole enterprise was that he would have young Blair travelling with him, which would be a blessing indeed.  James still had no idea why it should be, but the fact remained that he felt so much better in the lad’s presence, and knowing that he would be in touching distance was a huge relief.  
</p><p>He was a little concerned that he was getting perhaps too reliant on the boy, but as long as Blair didn’t appear to mind, then neither would he.  The sound of Blair’s voice and thrumming heartbeats were enough to sooth hearing that threatened to spike, and a simple pat on the shoulder or touch of his arm settled James instantly.  And if Caroline was watching him a little more closely as he leaned a little nearer to the lad than strictly necessary when he was dictating to him, then too bad.  <br/>
</p><p>-------------------------<br/>
</p><p>As far as Blair was concerned, despite the inclement weather, he had managed to keep himself fully occupied.  Not only was he taking on more and more of Marcel’s duties as the old man grew gradually more infirm, but he was also determined to be as little of a burden to Sir James on the upcoming trip as possible.  And one way to make sure of that was to be able to ride well enough to keep up with the contingent of knights.  His previous equestrian experience had been limited to plodding around on his and Naomi’s old sumpter pony, and when Sir James presented him with a beautiful palfrey for his own use, a deeply grateful Blair knew he had to do the animal justice.  Rowan was a pretty mare, the colour of rich honey and with a flaxen mane and tail, and Blair fell in love with her at first sight.  Consequently, at every opportunity he was to be found in the tilt yard being instructed by either Henry or one of the other knights, finding to his great satisfaction that the skill seemed to come naturally to him. 
</p><p>What didn’t come so easily, however, was trying out some defensive moves, in which an amiable Henry was also trying to instruct him.  A naturally gentle soul, Blair didn’t like physical aggression, even in self-defence, although undoubtedly he could and would retaliate when necessary – witness his determined efforts to protect his mother and Bronwen armed with nothing but a staff.  But he gritted his teeth and kept practicing, because one never knew when or where an attack might come from in the wilder areas of moorland and forest which they would be traversing during their journey.
</p><p>He was also assiduously practicing his Welsh, while at the same time acting as a willing go-between between Hywel and Bronwen.  Bronwen was most definitely thawing towards the young groom, and Blair was glad to witness the lifting of her spirits.  He hoped that it wouldn’t be long until the pair was hand-fasted, as they seemed to complement each other so well.
</p><p>And it had to be said that his match-making skills had borne fruit for his mother also; a development that pleased him no end even if it had been unintentional. 
</p><p>In the weeks since Christmas, Blair had managed to persuade Naomi to venture out into the town with him on occasion when he went on various errands, always looking to spark her interest and try and bring about at least a partial return of her previous vibrancy.  And he always tried to make a point of visiting his friends, of whom Aelfric was probably his favourite.  He had been so excited to have received his beautiful dagger, and wanted Aelfric to know just how much it was appreciated.
</p><p>Aelfric had indeed been suitably gratified, knowing that Blair truly recognised and admired the craftsmanship in the weapon, and that it would undoubtedly be cherished as such a beautiful object should be.
</p><p>But he had been even more pleased to make the acquaintance of Blair’s so very attractive mother.  As soon as Blair introduced the pair, there seemed to be a spark between them, as if they were instantly attracted to each other.  For sure, they might appear to be vastly different – the graceful and slender gentlewoman in complete contrast to the large and very muscular man – but the courtesy and respect with which Aelfric addressed Naomi wasn’t at all feigned, and Naomi knew it.  
</p><p>And after all was said and done, it wouldn’t be a bad match after all.  Aelfric was a man still in his prime, and as a respected master metalworker and armourer he was comfortably off, but had had no one to share it with ever since his first wife had died of child-bed fever soon after their son was still-born.  A broken-hearted Aelfric had remained single ever since, but now at last perhaps he had found someone with whom he might make a proper home again.  
</p><p>And it certainly didn’t hurt that he was very fond of Blair also, and was especially glad to note that the young man appeared to be far from against the concept of gaining a new stepfather.
</p><p>However, as yet it was early days, and they were still getting to know each other as best they could during Naomi’s infrequent visits, but Blair truly hoped that as the summer progressed, then so would his mother and Aelfric’s courtship.
</p><p>For now, however, it was time for him to turn his attention to the final arrangements for accompanying Sir James on his journey north, the excitement building in him as the day for their departure drew near.  He felt that he was as ready as he could be in respect of his equestrian skills thus far, and even though he was less than confident in his fighting ability, he trusted that with such a well-armed contingent of knights and men-at–arms in their party, most potential attackers would be dissuaded from making any assault on them.  However, he was also responsible for packing any materials he might need in his role as scribe, since it was inevitable that Sir James would have to deal with various situations during his progress.  Situations that might well require legal documents to be drawn up following the settlement of disputes amongst his tenants.   And Blair was nothing if not conscientious when it came to the minutiae of such requirements.
</p><p>Thanks mostly to Naomi, he was also now the proud owner of some new garments, suitable for his expected role on such a trip.  Of course, there was no question of him possessing an expensive mail shirt, or hauberk, as the knights did.  He had no helmet, coif or weaponry either, apart from his dagger, as he wasn’t expected to fight.  But he did have a quilted gambeson to wear beneath his surcoat, sheepskin mittens and a warm, hooded cloak and leather boots, so all in all he was well pleased.  
</p><p>Finally, the day of their departure arrived, and on a mild morning in early March they set out, Sir James’ standard billowing in a gentle breeze.  The baggage train trundled off after the leading group, and the men-at-arms brought up the rear.  Nearly everyone in the castle and in the township had turned out to see their Lord ride out, and from his position just behind the leading group of knights, Blair couldn’t have stopped grinning if he’d tried.  He thought that perhaps this was the most exciting day of his young life, and eagerly anticipated the coming weeks before their return.  Rowan too seemed to sense his excitement, and jogged and sidled as her master chuckled at her antics, not in the least perturbed, but rather thoroughly enjoying the thrill of the moment.  He had never expected to be in a position to explore beyond the boundaries that would normally surround a young man of his lowly background, and he intended to make the very most of the opportunity. <br/></p>
  </div></div>
<a name="section0005"><h2>5. Experiences Good and Bad</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p><b>Part 5: Experiences Good and Bad: </b><br/>
</p><p>The journey northwards was of necessity slow going, as the heavy baggage train often struggled with rutted and muddy roads which had as yet had no time to dry out.  Also James was making a point of stopping at every farmstead and hamlet they came across, conscientiously taking an interest in every one of his tenant farmers and the peasantry alike as behoved his responsibility as their overlord.  He was well aware that there were others of his rank who cared little for their people, but James’ sense of honour and duty would not allow for such indifference on his part.  Besides which, one never knew when one might have to rely on the loyalty of such men, especially during the times when the king required his earls and knights to raise levies in support of his frequent hostilities.  It was all part and parcel of the obligation that accompanied rank, and James was not a man to neglect his duties.
</p><p>Having said that, he was only human, and there were many occasions where his patience wore thin and he was hard-pushed to maintain his equilibrium.  More often than not, such irritations arose when he was called upon to sit in judgement on usually petty disputes between neighbouring farmers.  Not that they would appear petty to the individuals involved, but in the grander scheme of things, James would have preferred to delegate such officiating to others if at all possible.  But since he had no option but to listen, consider and deliver his decision, he made a point of having his scribe present so that he could at least rely on Blair’s presence to keep him focussed and relatively calm and collected.  
</p><p>And it had to be said that Blair was fascinated by everything he saw, eagerly absorbing each new encounter and experience with a refreshing innocence and inquisitiveness that cheered even the most jaded of his travelling companions.  Always happy to help, and never precious about whatever he was required to do, however humble a task, he was almost universally popular with all, and with the knights in particular he was considered to be something of a lucky mascot.  And as far as James was concerned, it was Blair who made the whole trip bearable, because without him, he was sure that he would once again be doomed to suffer the painful side-effects of his oversensitivity.  
</p><p>His closest companions amongst his hearth knights also had cause to be grateful for Blair’s benign influence on James, having witnessed their lord’s uncertain temper in the past when his senses were troubling him, even if they could only surmise the real reason behind his occasional abrasiveness.  Sir Maurice in particular surreptitiously studied the interactions between Sir James and young Blair, noting the apparently deepening understanding between master and servant even though he didn’t presume to judge them.  He was simply grateful that his lord had finally found a way to live with a ‘condition’ whose nature Sir Maurice couldn’t even begin to guess at.
</p><p>It was when the party reached the northernmost border of James’ lands, and met up with Earl Ranulf and his contingent when his pleasure in the trip began to dim for Blair, and for James also, truth be told.  The earl intended to offer James and his party the hospitality of one of his more important knight’s manor houses, irrespective of whether the man was happy about the imposition or not.  It was the earl’s pleasure, and as his retainer, Sir Warren de Percival had no option but to accede gracefully to his lord’s demands, and count the cost to himself and his family later.   
</p><p>As James rode forward to greet Earl Ranulf, accompanied by Sir Maurice, his squire Henry and his standard bearer, from his position behind the leading group of knights Blair thought that his lord made an impressive sight.  Astride his favourite destrier, the black stallion Ajax, James looked every inch the noble warrior, and Blair couldn’t help but feel a little pride and a lot of gratitude that he had played a humble part in making Sir James’ life a little easier.  Whatever it was between them, he didn’t question it, just accepted that his master liked to keep him close, which suited him admirably.  
</p><p>Yes, he knew that there were some who considered his treatment to be inappropriate, and was concerned that the Lady Caroline might be one of those individuals, but at the end of the day, it was the master’s opinion that counted, and Blair was content with that.  Although never personal or overly revealing; their social standing precluding inappropriate intimacy; their conversations were nevertheless mutually interesting and Blair enjoyed listening to Sir James’ descriptions of some of his exploits, even though he was never prideful or vain.  Instead, Blair appreciated the older man’s dry humour, often self-directed, and was honoured to be granted such an insight into the man’s character.  He was even more gratified when Sir James asked Blair about his own doings, never appearing to be bored or disparaging however humble such actions must seem in comparison to his own.  
</p><p>As he watched Sir James approach the other party, Blair frowned as he studied the earl, suddenly shocked by the instant and deeply unnerving visceral antipathy he felt towards the man at first sight.  It wasn’t like him at all; completely out of character for such an easy-going soul; and he didn’t like it.
</p><p>It wasn’t so much the earl’s physical appearance, although the man’s arrogance fairly oozed from every part of him; his heavily-built body carried proud and tall astride his huge bay warhorse; but it was the expression on his florid, meaty features.  An habitual sneering, almost disdainful expression was thinly disguised by his effusive greeting, and Blair knew instinctively that his lord would not be in the least impressed even if his own demeanour remained cool and courteous.  And when the earl’s assessing gaze swept over James’ party, Blair couldn’t suppress a shudder as the hard, flat eyes rested briefly on him.  He had a distinct feeling that this visit wasn’t going to be pleasant, and wished with all his might that they were going to turn for home immediately.  <br/>
</p><p>---------------------<br/>
</p><p><b>Later that evening: </b><br/>
</p><p>Unfortunately for Blair, his wish was to no avail as their party were made welcome at Sir Warren’s substantial manor complex.  Destriers were stabled in the hall’s own stable block, while horse lines were set up beneath lean-to shelters for the humbler animals.  Blair had made a point of making sure that Rowan was as well-fed and comfortable as possible, spending time grooming her as much for her benefit as for his as he tried to give himself valid reasons for staying away from the gathering in the hall for as long as possible.
</p><p>Not that he could put it off indefinitely because he knew that Sir James would be looking for him, so after making an effort to tidy himself up, he straightened his shoulders and headed for the hall.  Tents had been set up in the ward for those unable to appropriate a space the main building in which to sleep, and Blair had expected to be housed in one of them, only to learn that he and Henry were commanded to remain with Sir James, curling up on mattresses in the corner of the chamber designated to accommodate him.  He told himself firmly that it would be preferable to sleeping out under canvas, especially as the weather was still inclined to be cold and wet, but he had a gut feeling that he would be better off in a tent nonetheless.  
</p><p>By the time Blair entered the manor’s Great Hall, the company was seated for the evening feast, with Earl Ranulf taking the position of honour at the top table, with James at one side and Sir Warren and his young wife, Lady Eleanor on the other.  The other guests and household members sat at the side trestles in order of rank from retainers and knights down to the lower orders below the salt.  Sir Warren was doing his utmost to entertain his guests and maintain a hospitable front, but Blair could well imagine that internally he would be gritting his teeth in irritation as he watched the best part of his remaining winter provisions disappearing down the throats of his undoubtedly unwanted visitors.  And as for his shy and self-effacing young wife, she was making a valiant effort to converse politely with the boorish and overbearing Earl Ranulf, but the strain was obvious to the surreptitiously watching, soft-hearted and sympathetic young man.
</p><p>He did think that Sir James looked incredibly self-contained and handsome, however, attired in his royal blue court robe, and took vicarious pleasure and pride on Naomi’s behalf when he overheard Lady Eleanor compliment his lord on the garment’s exquisite embroidery.
</p><p>As he had become accustomed to do, Blair was helping Henry to serve at the top table, making sure that wine goblets remained topped up for the guests of honour.  They would eat later, once relieved of their duties, and normally Blair wouldn’t be at all resentful for the extra task.  However, on this occasion he quickly realised that he would rather be almost anywhere else, and that was entirely due to the obnoxious attitude of Earl Ranulf.  As he leaned over to refill the earl’s goblet, he caught the overtly lascivious leer the earl sent him, and he was hard put not to shudder in disgust as the man’s meaty hand deliberately brushed his behind as he straightened up.  He dearly wished that he could tip the contents of his wine jug over the lecher’s head, but that wasn’t an option.  He realised, however, that Sir James had noticed the incident, a brief scowl furrowing his handsome brow as he nodded slightly to Blair in tacit enquiry.  Blair offered him an equally brief smile of reassurance, but thereafter unobtrusively left it to Henry to deal with the Earl’s replenishment.  
</p><p>Once the meal was done, and the tables cleared, the company settled down to be entertained by a troupe of travelling jongleurs in the same manner as those Blair had seen at Handlow, so he took the opportunity to visit the garderobe to relieve himself before heading for the kitchens to seek out Henry and get himself something to eat.   Unfortunately for him, Earl Ranulf had been covertly watching him throughout the evening, determined to enjoy the tasty morsel Sir James had brought with him, and not about to wait any longer to do so.  
</p><p>As Blair left the garderobe and headed back down the narrow corridor towards the kitchens, he was seized from behind by a cruel hand tangling in his curls, and spun around to be pinned against the wall by Earl Ranulf’s substantial bulk.  As the other man chuckled nastily, using his other hand to fondle his prey, Blair shook with revulsion and fear.  His instinctive reaction would normally be to knee his attacker in the privates and run for it, but this was an earl, and he a mere servant, so the consequences of such an action would be dire indeed for him, whether or not it was justified.  
</p><p>“Leaving so soon, sweeting?” the earl’s voice hissed in his ear, his bad breath wafting in Blair’s face.  “You are far too pretty for a boy, and I think you and I should have a little more fun before you retire, don’t you?” he continued evilly, his predatory gaze leaving Blair in no doubt that he was in real trouble.
</p><p>However, luckily for him, James had been tracking his young scribe, especially when the Earl excused himself as soon as Blair left the hall.  He didn’t trust the man at all, and having seen the looks he had been sending Blair’s way, he had no doubt that the Lord of Chester had an ulterior motive, and it wasn’t an honourable one.   He therefore made his own way in the direction the other two had taken, knowing that he couldn’t confront the earl aggressively any more than could his young scribe without serious repercussions, but he could certainly feign insouciance if needs be. 
</p><p>When he turned a corner to see the two figures in the shadows, he growled deep in his chest at the sight of Ranulf’s rough hands groping Blair, his enhanced sight allowing him to take in every detail, and his hearing easily detecting the pounding of Blair’s heart as he panted in fear and distress.  However, much as he would have loved to tear the man limb from limb for touching his own, he managed to paste a wide, innocent smile on his face as he called cheerily, “Is that you, Master FitzHerbert?  I’ve been looking for you!”
</p><p>Caught unawares, Earl Ranulf stepped back, a scowl on his face as his prey slipped away and ran to his master; Sir James placing a comforting hand on the lad’s shoulder even as he continued in a light voice for the earl’s benefit, “I have need of your services, Master FitzHerbert.  I wish for you to pen me a letter before I retire, so go now and fetch your writing gear to my chamber.”
</p><p>His pale face betraying his great relief, Blair nodded quickly.  “Yes, my lord, at once!” and he fairly fled from the scene to do as he was bid, knowing that he had had an extremely lucky escape.
</p><p>Although his plans had been thwarted by Sir James’ unexpected and untimely arrival, Earl Ranulf ruthlessly quashed his initial frustration.  He could still have a little fun at the man’s expense, knowing that Sir James wouldn’t retaliate, and he was certain that there would be other opportunities to have his way with the pretty youth.   
</p><p>Strolling nonchalantly up to James, the earl clapped the other man amicably on the shoulder.  Adopting a knowing, man-to-man tone and expression, he chuckled, “That’s a fine little piece you have there, Sir James!  If he were mine I’d have him bending over for me at every opportunity!  You’re a lucky man!”
</p><p>He was amply rewarded by the flash of fury in the other man’s ice blue eyes, and sniggered inwardly in malicious amusement at James’ struggles to contain his anger and affront.  Oh yes, he’d scored a hit on the insufferable prig’s honour and integrity, and he made the most of it even as he maintained his pretence of bonhomie.
</p><p>He would never know just how close he came at that moment to having his head ripped from his shoulders, and to hell with the consequences.
</p><p>However, James controlled his immediate impulse with a gargantuan effort, knowing that it would do irreparable and far-reaching damage far beyond these walls, and ultimately leave Blair in a much more vulnerable position if he allowed himself to react as he wished.   So he somehow managed to force his mouth and facial muscles to obey him and stretch into a grim smile as he replied tightly, “Perhaps you are right, my lord.  He is certainly an excellent scribe despite his youth, and I was lucky to find him.  And now I will bid you good night, sire.  Do you have particular plans for the morrow?”
</p><p>His gaze both assessing and knowing, Ranulf replied easily, “I thought we should go hunting, Sir James.  We should take the opportunity for a little relaxation before we discuss our plans for our families’ future mutual benefit, don’t you think?  Good night, Sir James!” and he turned to go, a wicked grin on his coarse-featured face as he strolled away, leaving a very disturbed man watching his departure.  
</p><p>James stood where he was for long moments after the earl left him, his thoughts and emotions in a tumult.  For certain he was furious at the earl’s arrogant and self-serving behaviour, and was desperately concerned for his young scribe’s state of mind, but he also recognised his own hypocrisy.  Hadn’t he had his own thoughts along the same lines every time Blair was close by?  He might not have acted on his desires; mostly, it had to be said, because of Blair’s extreme youth and charming innocence; but he had certainly entertained more than a few lusty urges and wild imaginings, even when he was bedding his own wife.  And what would Caroline make of it if she knew he was contemplating taking a gloriously naked Blair instead of enjoying her feminine attributes?  It didn’t bear thinking of, and he knew it.
</p><p>But right now he needed to go and see how Blair was, and offer whatever comfort the young man needed, so he shook himself determinedly out of his momentary stupefaction and strode back to his chamber, glad that he had insisted that both Blair and Henry share his room and his protection.<br/>
</p><p>---------------------------<br/>
</p><p>Meanwhile, in Sir James’ chamber, Blair paced nervously up and down, glad that Henry was still enjoying himself down in the hall, but jumping at every sound in case it was the earl come to assault him again.  He knew that Sir James would never allow him to be hurt if at all possible, but he was also well aware that his master was also constrained in how much he could do to protect Blair if Earl Ranulf was bent on making trouble.  After all, the earl had the ear of the king, and honours and titles granted in reward for services rendered could just as easily be taken away, and Blair certainly wouldn’t want that to happen to his lord on his account.  
</p><p>When the door latch rattled, he spun around in panic, only to deflate in relief when it opened to reveal Sir James, his handsome face wearing a concerned and caring expression.  Quickly crossing the room, the big man placed his hands on Blair’s shoulders as he studied the young face intently.
</p><p>“Are you all right, Blair?  Did he hurt you?” he demanded urgently.  
</p><p>Blair offered him a shaky smile.  “No, my lord.  You arrived before he could…um…do anything more than touch me.  But I’m so sorry, my lord,” he continued, hanging his head in shame.  “I’m so sorry to be the cause of discord between you and the earl.  I truly didn’t intend to lead him on, I swear!”
</p><p>James nodded, his compassion clear to see as he replied gently, “I know, Blair.  You did nothing to encourage him.  Your only fault is that you truly are an attractive young man, and Earl Ranulf, for all his gross nature and appearance, does have very good taste!” he added with a rueful grin.  
</p><p>“But since we have no option but to remain here for another two days at least, I suggest that you either remain at my side whenever possible, or stay close to Sir Maurice.  You are excused from serving at table, and I shall instruct him to watch over you when I cannot, and between us we’ll make sure that no other opportunity arises for Earl Ranulf to take advantage of you.”
</p><p>Blair sighed and shuddered in pure relief, and when James finally succumbed to temptation and took the slender body into his arms to offer comfort, he was amazed at how right it felt, and gratified when the boy melted against him, fitting perfectly in his embrace.  <br/></p>
  </div></div>
<a name="section0006"><h2>6. A Dire Situation</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p><b>Part 6: A Dire Situation: </b><br/>
</p><p><b>Two days later, on the way home: </b><br/>
</p><p>It was a far quieter and more pensive Blair who set off homeward towards Handlow, although he wasn’t alone in his brooding discomfiture.  The past two days had been a challenge he could have well done without, and had completely reversed the pleasure he had taken in his first patrol with his lord.  Instead of being able to relax and enjoy his new surroundings, willingly offering his customary assistance wherever it was needed; he had been forced to more or less skulk in the shadows in order to keep out of the foul clutches of Earl Ranulf.  With the help and cooperation of Sir James, Sir Maurice and the other knights in Sir James’ retinue, he had been successful, but at a cost.  He felt more hunted and vulnerable than he could ever recall feeling before, even when living virtually on Whittingham Manor’s doorstep, within reach of Lady Alise and her spiteful sons.  At least they hadn’t had perverted sexual designs on him, to the best of his knowledge; merely intent on making his and Naomi’s lives more difficult.
</p><p>As for James, he had other things on his mind as well as the welfare of his scribe.  For certain, Blair’s immediate safety had been first and foremost in his thoughts during his brief stay at Earl Ranulf’s pleasure, but there had been other considerations to face up to also.  And as he had feared, one of those had indeed been the earl’s proposition regarding his little Margot’s betrothal to Ranulf’s youngest son Wilber.  If it had come from almost anyone but Earl Ranulf, James might have accepted the proposal willingly, knowing that in due course Margot would be well-provided for, especially if she eventually gained a younger brother who would automatically inherit Handlow.  But since it was common for daughters thus betrothed to go and live with their prospective in-laws as soon as they were deemed old enough, he had good cause to prevaricate.  He knew only too well that the earl had been less than satisfied with his excuse that he would like the opportunity to discuss the situation with Caroline, since in most such marriages the wife had little say in the affairs of men, but Earl Ranulf had grudgingly agreed to wait until the summer was done and the harvest in before receiving James’ decision.  After all, his conceit was such that it hadn’t really occurred to him that James would refuse his generous offer, so he could afford to be magnanimous and grant the man a little more time in which to imagine he had any choice in the outcome.  
</p><p>James knew full well that it was only delaying the inevitable, but at least it would give both he and Caroline time to come to terms with the situation, and he could always delay Margot’s departure for as long as possible, in the hope that over time circumstances might change for the better.  Preferably with the demise of the earl, although James knew he ought to feel guilty about harbouring such uncharitable thoughts. 
</p><p>Unfortunately, troubling as it was, that wasn’t the only problem on James’ mind.  In more weighty discussions with the earl concerning affairs of state, he had learned that once again King Henry was at daggers drawn with the French king over some territorial dispute or other, and James thought wryly that it would therefore only be a matter of time until it inevitably escalated into actual war.  In which case, as a king’s man, he would undoubtedly be expected to fulfil his obligations to muster the requisite contingent of soldiers and knights and lead them in whatever conflict or confrontation to which he was directed, wherever it may be.  He knew full well that it was simply another aspect of the duty he owed in exchange for his title and lands, but just occasionally he wondered cynically if he might not have been better served by following his father’s path as a merchant instead.  
</p><p>And each time, he recognised that he was only deluding himself.  He was convinced that it was his role in life to lead and fight to protect his king and his people, and that was what he would continue to do for as long as he was able or needed. <br/>
</p><p>--------------------<br/>
</p><p>As the journey progressed, Blair began to relax a little more the nearer they got to Handlow.  The return trip was considerably quicker than the outward one, as Sir James didn’t have the same number of duty calls to make, and the gradually improving weather conditions meant that progress was made easier, especially for the baggage carts.  However, any complacency the members of the party might have developed as they neared their destination was rudely stripped away when a messenger was spotted, approaching at speed on a horse close to foundering, so hard was it ridden.
</p><p>By that time they were nearing Whittingham Manor lands, with perhaps another full day’s travel before reaching Handlow, and James was immediately on the alert, his first thought being that perhaps Caroline had gone into labour early or had fallen ill and needed her husband’s presence.  However, as his heightened vision made out the identity of the messenger, who was none other than the Welsh groom Hywel, he feared that it may be something even more dire.  
</p><p>Knowing that the groom’s grasp of Norman French was basic at best, and that his of the Welsh language was execrable, he immediately summoned Blair to his side so as not to waste a moment of precious time, and by the time Hywel had virtually fallen from his staggering beast and dropped to one knee before his lord, James was ready and waiting to hear his news.
</p><p>Too impatient to truly appreciate the rapid-fire exchange between the two young men and its swift and accurate translation, yet he was incensed to learn that Gryffydd ap Owain, the son of his nearest Welsh neighbour, Owain Daffyd, had been raiding the lands bordering Whittingham Manor in James’ absence, and had been steadily encroaching on Handlow’s own territory before being called to parlay by his seneschal William of Chester, and the Lady Caroline.  At present, a fragile truce was in place, but reading between the lines, James surmised that the hostilities were instigated by the actions of the young Sir Oliver Whittingham.   
</p><p>Instantly making his decision, James bade Hywel ride with the baggage train while his exhausted mount was secured to the back of the cart, and ordered Sir Maurice and a handful of his knights to ride with him in all haste to the castle.  The remainder of his troop, and the baggage train could follow in their own time, but for now, he needed to be home and back in command of what could turn out to be a very fraught situation.
</p><p>Needless to say, Blair was deeply worried as he watched his lord ride away at full speed, and could only pray that the situation wasn’t as dire at it seemed on the surface, but he knew he was probably deceiving himself.  He knew exactly how ambitious and stupidly self-important his half-brother Sir Oliver was, deluding himself into believing that he had the right to impose his own version of proprietorship as regards the borders of his lands and those of his Welsh neighbours.  
</p><p>It was to be hoped that Sir James would arrive in time to placate said Welsh neighbours and potential adversaries, because an unnecessary ramping up of hostilities was the last thing Sir James needed right now. <br/>
</p><p>------------------------<br/>
</p><p>Riding as fast as was practicable without foundering their horses, James and his small escort bypassed Whittingham in order to reach Handlow Castle as soon as possible.  Even so, by the time they crossed the drawbridge men and beasts were nearing exhaustion, although James had no intention of resting until he had been apprised of exactly what had been going on in his absence.  Leaving Ajax in the capable hands of a groom, and trusting his men to take care of themselves and their mounts, he strode towards the castle entrance, pulling off his gauntlets and pushing back his mail coif in order to run his fingers through his short hair, grimacing at the feel of dirt and grease.  But all thoughts of a refreshing bath had to wait, and his anger was barely contained as he was met at the door by William of Chester and Caroline.
</p><p>William bowed deferentially as he greeted his lord, but he knew his own worth, and also that Sir James appreciated honesty and openness rather than obsequiousness.  He therefore answered James’ questions calmly and fully, holding nothing back, but giving praise where it was due.
</p><p>“So, what have you to report, William?  Hywel has told me that Gryffydd ap Owain has been encroaching onto Whittingham land, but I gather that he has reason.  Is that true?”
</p><p>“Alas, my lord, it is,” William replied grimly.  “I understand that it started only days after you left, but Sir Oliver tried to deal with the situation by himself with his own men, until it escalated from simply raiding sheep and livestock to actual conflict.  And when there were casualties on both sides, Gryffydd turned his attention to Handlow itself, with his father’s blessing.
</p><p>“We were able to negotiate a temporary truce until you returned, my lord, which was mostly achieved by the Lady Caroline.  Owain Daffyd was impressed by her diplomacy, as was Gryffydd, and said he was willing to wait and hold off from further hostility until he was satisfied that you had no hand in the business and that you were prepared to deal with your man yourself.”
</p><p>James smiled at Caroline, even though the expression in his eyes remained somewhat distracted and distant.  He was indeed proud of her, standing straight and unbowed, despite the hand resting protectively on the mound of her belly, and made the effort to tell her so.
</p><p>“It sounds as if you have been of great assistance to William in keeping Handlow safe in my absence, my lady, and I thank you from the bottom of my heart.  But now I am returned, perhaps you should retire to your chamber, my dear.  I do not wish to belittle you, but you look weary, and I feel that it would be best for both you and our unborn child to rest.”
</p><p>Caroline returned his smile graciously, realising that he meant no insult, and as she did indeed feel the effects of her advanced pregnancy, she nodded in acquiescence.  
</p><p>“I shall do as you suggest, my lord, but I shall also call for a bath to be drawn for you.  I am certain that you would feel the better for it before having to confront Owain Daffyd and Gryffydd ap Owain.”
</p><p>“You’re probably right, my lady.  I’ll finish discussing our next moves with Master William and Sir Maurice, then I’ll come up to our chamber.”
</p><p>Knowing that her husband’s attention was necessarily focussed elsewhere, Caroline turned to leave while James continued to question his seneschal.  Sir Maurice was also making his way over to join the two men, so she knew that her presence was no longer required.  However, she wasn’t particularly aggrieved, since the physical defence of the castle and its occupants was men’s work. She was simply glad that her negotiating skills had been of value, and was quietly gratified that James had voiced his appreciation.  And she trusted him to do his utmost to protect her and Margot as well as all his people both in Handlow and along his borders.
</p><p>As Caroline took her leave of them, James turned back to William.  “Now Sir Maurice is here, can you tell us exactly what has been going on?  What has prompted ap Owain to break our treaty with him and his people?”
</p><p>William’s mouth tightened in a thin-lipped grimace.  “I’m sorry to have to report, sire, that it was because of Sir Oliver Whittingham’s actions.  Apparently he has encouraged his farmers and serfs to graze their livestock on lands that Gryffydd ap Owain claims belong to him, and has been doing so for some little time now.  Up until now, the Welshmen have been content to simply round up and take in recompense whatever animals they consider to be straying, but shortly after you left, my lord, a few of Sir Oliver’s serfs were involved in a brief skirmish as they tried to protect their flock, and two of them were killed.  Sir Oliver immediately retaliated by sending a troop of his men to raze one of ap Owain’s farms to the ground, and the fighting escalated from there.  There have been more casualties on both sides, and ap Owain turned his attention to Handlow, assuming that you had reneged on your agreement with Owain Daffyd and were turning a blind eye to your knight’s actions.  It was the Lady Caroline who was able to persuade him and his father to wait until your return, because she assured them that you would never do such a thing without good reason, and certainly not behind Owain Daffyd’s back.  They have therefore agreed to refrain from further conflict until you and they can meet in person, although Gryffydd has made it very clear that his patience is limited.”
</p><p>James was infuriated by what he had heard, and cursed Sir Oliver roundly under his breath.  The stupid, arrogant fool had far overstepped his purview and imperilled not only his own family but James’ also.  And if James failed to contain the problem and the king learned of his failure, he dreaded to think on what form the repercussions would take.
</p><p>Huffing in irritation, an angry scowl darkening his features, James included both William and Sir Maurice in his commanding gaze as he made his decision.  
</p><p>“Thank you for your candour, Master William.  It seems that Sir Oliver has a lot to answer for, and it is to be hoped that we can solve this problem with no more casualties on either side.  I believe that it is no more to Owain Daffyd’s advantage to continue hostilities as it is to ours, but he is also not a man to let any affront to his honour or his son’s to go unchallenged.  However, I would have you send a message to him immediately that I am willing to meet them on neutral ground in two days’ time, with minimal escorts on both sides.  I must wait that long, because I feel that my needs will be best served by having Master FitzHerbert by my side to translate for me, and he will not arrive back here until tomorrow at least.  
</p><p>“In the meantime, once you have rested a while and had something to eat, Sir Maurice, I’ll meet with you again, and you also, William, to discuss our defences in case the worst comes to the worst.
</p><p>“And I pray Heaven that it doesn’t come to that.” <br/></p>
  </div></div>
<a name="section0007"><h2>7. Part 7: Rejoicing and Resentment</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p><b>Part 7: Rejoicing and Resentment: </b><br/>
</p><p><b>Two days later: </b><br/>
</p><p>From his place alongside Sir James, Blair felt very small and anxious as he gazed around him.  He had barely set foot on the ground after arriving back at the castle before Sir James had summoned him to his presence, informing him that he would be needed first thing on the morrow to translate at the crucial meeting with the Welsh lord and his son.  Sensing his nervousness, Rowan stamped and sidled, making Ajax snort and toss his head, ears laid back in irritation.  Glancing apologetically up at Sir James’ repressive frown, Blair petted the mare’s neck, concentrating on controlling his own emotions in the face of the responsibility about to fall on his young shoulders.  This most definitely wasn’t about him, and he would do well to remember that.
</p><p>Instead, he attempted to divert himself by concentrating on their location, which under any other circumstances would have been fascinating to him.  The chosen meeting place between Sir James, Owain Daffyd and Gryffydd ap Owain was in the centre of an ancient hillfort.   It was a wide, open space on top of a steep-sided hill, surrounded by an impressive earthwork built by men centuries before the Romans set foot on Britain’s shores.  Deserted now, except for the semi-wild sheep that grazed it, it was widely regarded by both the Lord of Handlow and his Welsh neighbours as a sort of no-man’s land, or buffer zone between them, and as such was about as neutral a meeting place as it was possible to find.
</p><p>And because of the vantage point it offered, with a commanding view of the surrounding countryside, it would be easy to see any signs of treachery in the shape of an ambush by either party.  
</p><p>And now Blair waited alongside his lord for the arrival of Owain Daffyd and his son, feeling exposed and insignificant despite their small escort of knights who were dispersed at the boundary of the field behind them, openly visible to the approaching Welsh contingent.
</p><p>Despite the gravity of the situation, yet James spared a thought for his young scribe, and took a moment to try and put the lad’s mind at rest as best he could.  It was true that he needed the boy’s expertise as a translator, but it was also true that his very presence allowed James’ senses to function easily and efficiently, so that even though his conscience was somewhat guilty about exposing Blair to potential danger, he knew he had no option.  
</p><p>And it was also true that he could recall with great clarity the feeling of the boy’s slender body in his arms when he had offered Blair comfort after his fright with Earl Ranulf.  It had been possibly the best tactile experience he had ever had, even though at the time it had been completely platonic, or at least, that had been the intention on James’ part.  And if it had grown into something much more disturbing, troubling his dreams with ever more erotic scenarios, then it was up to him to try and control them, increasingly difficult as that was. 
</p><p>“Try not to worry so much, Master FitzHerbert.  From here I can easily tell if Owain Daffyd has treachery in mind in the form of an ambush.  And in all honesty, I believe that on an occasion such as this he would not sink so low.  He is a hard man, and an astute leader, but he also has his own code of honour, and perhaps Sir Oliver Whittingham should have taken more note of that.”
</p><p>Blair smiled a little shakily up at him, his young face still rather drawn, but his expression was trusting.  “Thank you, my lord.   I trust in your judgement, and will do my best to serve you when the time comes, I swear.”
</p><p>“I do not doubt it, young Blair,” James replied with a grim smile.  “But now the time has come, and Owain and Gryffydd are here.  And with only a small escort also, as agreed.  
</p><p>“So, are you ready to translate for me?”  
</p><p>And Blair nodded decisively.  “Yes, my lord, I am!” <br/>
</p><p>--------------------------<br/>
</p><p><b>That evening: </b><br/>
</p><p>Much later that evening, Blair was to be found in Marcel’s tiny chamber, visiting with the old man and entertaining him with his anecdotes and information.  Although it was true that for a brief time after Blair’s arrival Marcel had appeared to take on a new lease of life, unfortunately it was short-lived, and now the old man’s age and infirmities had once more taken hold such that the fragile old scribe was now more or less confined to his bed.  
</p><p>However, he still relished Blair’s companionship, eagerly anticipating the young man’s visits and absorbing with gratitude all the genuine enthusiasm and warmth the boy exuded.  
</p><p>Since this was the first opportunity he had had to speak with Blair since the boy’s return from his tour with Sir James, Marcel had asked for a full account of the trip.  And of course, Blair had complied with a will, describing in detail all the things he had seen, and extolling the admirable qualities of Sir James in all his many doings.  Not unexpectedly, of course, he omitted any mention of his unpleasant encounter with Earl Ranulf, concentrating instead on describing Sir Warren’s hall and table and giving Marcel great pleasure with his witty observations and deliberately exaggerated accounts.  
</p><p>Not unsurprisingly, Marcel then wanted to be told all about the day’s meeting with the Welsh, so Blair had done his best to do so without getting too subjective.  After all, although he well knew that Marcel was fond of him, he didn’t need to be burdened with Blair’s emotional reactions and observations, so did his best to stick to the facts.  But having said that, even as he began his basic description, in his head he couldn’t help but relive his thoughts and feelings during that potentially hostile encounter.
</p><p>When Owain Daffyd and Gryffydd had ridden over to meet Sir James and Blair, Blair freely admitted to himself that he had been extremely worried.  The Welsh lord might not have had Sir James’ physical stature, but he exuded confidence and sharp intelligence, and Blair knew instinctively that there would be some hard bargaining that day.  And he wasn’t mistaken.  
</p><p>While he did his best to translate accurately and unemotionally, he couldn’t help but feel dismayed at the breadth of Owain and Gryffydd’s affront and displeasure at Sir Oliver’s high-handed behaviour.  This was no small insult, but a slap in the face for the Welshmen, and they weren’t about to take it lying down.
</p><p>However, even while he maintained his own dignity and honour, James had managed to placate the Welshmen with a sincere apology and a promise that he would deal with Sir Oliver himself, and without delay.
</p><p>In all honesty the truce was fragile at best, but it was far better than the open threat of warfare, and the honour of both parties appeared to have been at least temporarily satisfied.  And modesty also forbade Blair from mentioning that Owain had commented favourably on his own performance as a diplomatic and able translator; a comment that had brought a blush of pleasure to his cheeks even as he had shyly mumbled the translation to Sir James.
</p><p>And the glow of pleasure he had experienced when Sir James had grinned and reached over to slap him on the shoulder in appreciation was worth more than gold.<br/>
</p><p>------------------------<br/>
</p><p>Later that night, James lay in bed, trying hard not to toss and turn in his sleeplessness so as not to disturb Caroline.  His wife was very near to term now, and needed all the rest she could get.  But even knowing this, he still couldn’t compel his thoughts to calm down enough to catch up on his own much-needed rest.  And he was fully aware that he needed to be at his best knowing what he had to face on the morrow.  
</p><p>As soon as he had returned from the meeting with the Welsh lords, he had immediately sent a messenger to Whittingham Manor demanding Sir Oliver’s presence no later than the following afternoon.  He intended to confront the young upstart without delay, and be seen to be doing so, as promised to Owain Daffyd.  His anger surged again as he considered the man’s greed and stupidity, which had put them all at risk, and he had no intention of letting Whittingham off with just a verbal slap on the wrist.  He would order that Sir Oliver make a sizable payment to both Owain Daffyd and Gryffydd ap Owain in recompense for his unacceptable behaviour, and although it would hardly restore the lives of those lost in the skirmishes between them, hopefully it would serve to placate their neighbours enough to return to and maintain the previous status quo.  
</p><p>On the other hand, he couldn’t help but smile softly at the recollection of young Blair FitzHerbert’s performance that day.  Although barely given enough time to unpack his few belongings, he had been ordered to accompany James, and he had done so without complaint.  And what was more, he had performed his duties magnificently enough to impress even Owain Daffyd himself, which was no mean feat.  Although he had no wish to expose Blair to unnecessary jealousy from those who would undoubtedly consider that he was being unduly favoured, he knew that he wanted to give the lad some sort of reward for his loyalty.  
</p><p>Of course, he knew what he would <i>like</i> to give Blair, but that was not going to happen.  Not yet, anyway, and not until Blair was old enough to decide for himself whether he wanted a deeper relationship with his lord.  Because it wouldn’t be easy on either of them for sure, and would have to be utterly clandestine, so perhaps he was being selfish in even thinking about it?   He told himself firmly to get over himself and be patient.  Blair would soon turn sixteen, and would be generally considered old enough to marry, but still James would make himself hold back for as long as possible.
</p><p>After all, his conscience nagged him, how could he possibly be considering seducing a beautiful boy when his wife was about to give birth to their second child?  It was so wrong, he knew it.  But knowing it and being able to accept it with equanimity was a completely different matter.
</p><p>With a huff of discontent, he punched his pillow and turned over away from Caroline, still trying not to wake her unnecessarily, and perhaps to his surprise, between one breath and the next, he finally succumbed to sleep.  <br/>
</p><p>-------------------------<br/>
</p><p><b>Several weeks later: </b><br/>
</p><p>From her seat at the window of Lady Caroline’s bower, Naomi smiled softly at the sight of her son playing with little Margot, while her baby brother slept peacefully in his crib watched over by Bronwen.  Caroline had given birth just before Easter Day, and hers and James’ son had arrived in the world with little difficulty and minimum travail for his mother.  Needless to say, both parents were utterly delighted, and James had named the boy William after his own father.  As Naomi had overheard him explaining his decision to Lady Caroline; although he and his father had been estranged for many years now, he still had the man to thank for setting him on the path to military success despite his disappointment that James had eschewed the family business.  And Lady Caroline had accepted his choice affably enough, well-pleased with herself for providing her husband with a son and heir.
</p><p>Her smile becoming a little more secretive as she bent over her needlework, Naomi glanced again at her own beautiful son, who was now rolling on a fur floor covering with Margot on his tummy, tickling her until she squealed in delight.  He was so good with her, and the sight was a pleasure to behold.  And perhaps because of that, and because she was feeling mellow for having been delivered of a boy child, Lady Caroline seemed much more accepting of his presence too, despite the connection that seemed to be strengthening daily between Sir James and Blair.
</p><p>Or perhaps it was just visible to Naomi as Blair’s doting mother?  Whatever the case, it certainly didn’t offend her in anyway, because she was of a mind that affection and respect in any form between two persons couldn’t be wrong.  And after all, didn’t she herself have cause to be grateful for that fact?  Over the weeks since Blair had introduced her to Aelfric, a strong affection had developed between them, despite their apparent differences.  The slender, elegant Jewess was dwarfed by the gruff, tall and powerful Saxon smith, but he treated her with exquisite care and gentleness, and she had surprised herself by her own desire to reciprocate.  
</p><p>Perhaps it wasn’t a romance in the way of ballads, but it felt good and comfortable, and when he had somewhat bashfully proposed marriage, she was so grateful to be offered a chance for lasting affection and a security she could never otherwise have hoped to achieve, she had accepted with alacrity.  
</p><p>Unfortunately, the news hadn’t been received with universal acceptance, and that thought still irked her.  Blair, bless him, was totally accepting, thrilled for her and Aelfric both, and very open about saying so.  Bronwen also, particularly because she too had accepted Hywel’s proposal, and hoped very much that they could have a double ceremony.   Sir James and Lady Caroline had been gracious in their congratulations; even though Lady Caroline had openly admitted that she would miss Naomi’s skills with the needle in her bower.  
</p><p>However, a major fly in the ointment had loomed when Father Anselm had been advised of their hopes.  He flatly refused to even consider performing a marriage ceremony for the pair in the sight of God, roundly condemning Aelfric for even countenancing tying himself to a Jewess.  It had made no difference that Naomi wasn’t a practicing Jew, and was even willing to convert to Christianity.  She wasn’t just a member of a despised race, but she was also the ex-mistress of the late Sir Herbert, and nothing more than a whore in the priest’s eyes, along with her bastard brat.  
</p><p>On the other hand, Brother Marcus at Whittingham had had no such questionable scruples, honestly pleased for them, and delighted to perform the ceremony whenever they wished.  And now the Lady Caroline had been churched following the birth, and was able to attend the ceremony in Whittingham chapel, the day had been set for the following month.
</p><p>Naomi sincerely hoped that it would be a time of rejoicing for all those she held dear, whether within the castle walls or the town and surrounding countryside.
</p><p>And so it should have been, if certain others’ resentment, greed and a desire for revenge hadn’t threatened to destroy all those hopes for good. <br/></p>
  </div></div>
<a name="section0008"><h2>8. A Betrayal of Trust</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p><b>Part 8: A Betrayal of Trust: </b><br/>
</p>
<p>On a fine morning in late May, Naomi and Aelfric and Bronwen and Hywel were wed in a joint celebration in Handlow Castle’s private chapel.  With James and Lady Caroline’s blessing, the venue had been chosen in preference to Whittingham Manor’s chapel in view of the on-going bad feeling that Lady Alise carried towards her deceased husband’s ex-mistress.  As Brother Marcus was more than willing to travel over to conduct the service, generally speaking the event was enjoyed by all, especially the wedding feast, which was held in the castle’s Great Hall.  And since Father Anselm still refused to give the happy couples his blessing, and chose not to put in an appearance at the chapel, then everyone simply left him to it and ignored his petulance.  And if James noted wryly that the greedy and self-serving cleric crept surreptitiously into the hall during the evening in order to get as much of the wedding fare down his throat as possible despite his sanctimonious protestations, he wasn’t going to make a fuss and disrupt the happy gathering.
</p>
<p>It had to be said that, despite Blair’s popularity both in the town and among the castle’s occupants, and the respect in which Aelfric was held, there were a few who disapproved of the marriage, but since Sir James himself was more than happy to attend in person, along with his lady wife and their family, then who were they to complain, unless it was in the privacy of their own homes.
</p>
<p>Thanks to the generously donated off-cuts Lady Caroline had given to Naomi, both she and Bronwen looked most attractive in new gowns, while Blair stood proudly next to his mother in a new blue tunic that brought out the stunning shade of his shining eyes.  Naomi had also managed to fashion a tunic for Hywel, and the young groom was touchingly appreciative of his unaccustomed finery.
</p>
<p>As for Aelfric, the tall, fair-haired Saxon stood proud in his best attire, his long hair and beard neatly trimmed, and the brooches and rings adorning his clothing and fingers were not unsurprisingly beautifully crafted by his own hand, just as was the wedding jewellery he had made for Naomi, and the rings they were about to exchange.  
</p>
<p>As soon as the ceremony was completed, carried out by a beaming Brother Marcus, the newly-weds exited the small chapel to be greeted by a large crowd of well-wishers, as many as could be squeezed into the hall for the wedding feast, while yet more were set to enjoy the festivities outside in the ward and in the town.
</p>
<p>It was indeed a time for genuine rejoicing, and only one event dampened its pleasure for James, Blair and the lord’s closest family, friends and retainers.  
</p>
<p>During the evening, while the celebrations were still in full swing, Blair had slipped away to visit Marcel, who was too weak now to leave his bed.  Holding the old man’s thin hand in both of his, Blair told him all about the day’s events, cheerfully detailing everything he knew his old friend would wish to know.  And although he was too tired to speak much, the slight twinkle in Marcel’s milky eyes and the crinkling at their corners were proof of his appreciation and affection for his young companion.  And when he passed away peacefully later that night, Brother Marcus was quick to offer comfort to his distressed ex-student, telling Blair that he should not be sad, because thanks to him, Marcel had known at the last that he was loved and cared for, and that he was now in a better place.<br/>
</p>
<p>-----------------------<br/>
</p>
<p>Unfortunately, the celebrations barely seemed to be over, and the newly-weds settled into their new domestic situations when rumours began to circulate concerning the return of robbers and cutthroats to the area.  Travelling entertainers and traders began to be ambushed and robbed on both sides of the border, while livestock was rustled and remote cottages raided and burned, sometimes with casualties and even fatalities.  It wasn’t anything new in those times and within such a wild landscape, and James knew that he would have to act as soon as he found out where the gang’s hideout was located.  No way would he tolerate such criminal activity on his lands, and he intended for the culprits to be brought to book as soon as possible.  However, this time there were other circumstances which made his decision both easier and more complicated, depending on how it was viewed.  
</p>
<p>It was on a fine summer’s evening when a small delegation from Gryffydd ap Owain arrived at the castle gate under a flag of truce.  When they were immediately shown up to James’ chamber, he listened with dismay to what he was told, having summoned Blair to translate for him.  Apparently, during a foiled raid on Welsh land, one of the robbers was captured alive, and after torture and interrogation by ap Owain, he confessed to everything he knew.  It didn’t save him from death, but at least his execution was swifter and more merciful than it would otherwise have been.
</p>
<p>He told ap Owain that the gang’s hideout was hidden deep in the forests to the north of Whittingham Manor.  But when James queried why he had heard nothing from Sir Oliver regarding theft or raids on his property, the answer both disgusted and infuriated him.  According to the captured robber, the gang’s leader had come to an agreement with Whittingham, such that Sir Oliver would turn a blind eye to the gang’s camping virtually on his doorstep in exchange for his lands and people being left alone.  It was a betrayal of trust that could not go unpunished, and James immediately responded.  As Whittingham’s overlord, he was responsible for his man’s actions, and such dishonourable behaviour was not to be countenanced.  He therefore informed the Welshmen that he was prepared to meet with ap Owain, and together they would ride out to Whittingham Manor.  He intended to question Sir Oliver, and then command the man to muster his own knights to join with their contingent in order to oust the gang from their den.  
</p>
<p>And once that had been accomplished, he would decide on what form Whittingham’s punishment should take, because in view of the gravity of the man’s transgression, this time a simple fine would not be anything like enough.<br/>
</p>
<p>--------------------<br/>
</p>
<p><b>Two days later: </b><br/>
</p>
<p>James rode side by side with Gryffydd ap Owain at the head of a mixed contingent made up of James’ hearth knights and men-at-arms and ap Owain’s Welshmen.  The Welshmen were lightly armed and had little in the way of body armour in comparison to the Norman fighting men, and in a head-on encounter on the open battlefield would be massacred by the heavily armed knights despite their undoubted courage and ferocity.  However, when it came to skirmishing in rugged and forested locations, their knowledge of woodcraft and use of the landscape often gave them the upper hand against the more cumbersome Normans in hit-and–run type ambushes, and such skills would be invaluable in the upcoming attack on the robber gang.  
</p>
<p>It was an odd temporary alliance for certain, and even though James was still seething with having been put into this position in the first place, he couldn’t help but consider wryly that if nothing else, it would be a very different experience.  Ap Owain had accepted somewhat reluctantly that James honestly hadn’t known of his man’s actions, and the fact that James suggested this joint operation had allayed his suspicions even more, especially as he would be there to see and hear for himself the interrogation James intended to carry out on Sir Oliver on their arrival at Whittingham Manor.  
</p>
<p>And it went without saying that ap Owain would thoroughly enjoy sharing in the destruction of the nest of thieves who had preyed on innocents on both Norman and Welsh lands.<br/>
</p>
<p>---------------------<br/>
</p>
<p>Riding alongside Henry just behind the van, Blair was doing his best to appear nonchalant despite being a bundle of nerves, and was ruefully aware that his friend wasn’t in the least bit convinced.  In his role as Sir James’ squire, Henry had seen action many times despite his youth, and although he was also excited and not a little nervous himself, he sympathised with Blair, who looked really out of place amongst the mixed fighting men.  
</p>
<p>“Are you all right, Blair?” he asked quietly, too tactful to draw unnecessary attention to his companion.  “Can I do anything for you?”
</p>
<p>Blair offered him a wan but grateful attempt at a grin.  “No, Henry, truly.  But thank you for asking.  In truth, I don’t think I’ve ever felt so uneasy, and it’s not just because I know that Sir James intends to destroy those thieves.  I doubt if I’ll be anywhere near the action anyway, because I’m really no use as a fighter, as you well know!  
</p>
<p>“But I can’t help but worry about what will transpire between Sir Oliver and Sir James when we arrive at Whittingham.  I mean, I admit that I’ve never really been comfortable with Sir Oliver.  He might be my half-brother, but he hates me and my mother, perhaps with reason.  But I would never have believed that he would do anything so unworthy as harbouring robbers on his lands.  Even if he were scared of their moving against his people, surely he should have come to Sir James first?  Between them they would soon have solved the problem, but instead he’s just let it carry on.  It’s almost as if he intended to hurt Sir James through spite or perhaps even revenge.  
</p>
<p>“And what Sir James will do about it I hate to think,” he tailed off miserably, rubbing Rowan’s silky neck as much to calm himself as offer comfort to the mare.  
</p>
<p>Henry reached over and patted his young friend’s arm, his eyes full of sympathy and understanding.  
</p>
<p>“I know it must be hard for you, Blair, going back to Whittingham, and under such circumstances.  But I know that you will behave with dignity even if Sir Oliver doesn’t.  And don’t worry too much about the attack either,” he continued bracingly.  “Ap Owain’s men can do what ours can’t if conditions favour them, so between us the cutthroats don’t stand a chance!”
</p>
<p>Blair grinned back at that, his gratitude for Henry’s comforting words clear in his open expression.  “Thank you, Henry.  For not making fun of me.  I do feel better now, and more able to do whatever Sir James asks of me.  Whether he’ll need me to pen anything for him, or just to keep translating for him and Gryffydd ap Owain.   I’ll just make sure I do my best.”
</p>
<p>And Henry nodded again and grinned in response.  “As if you would ever do anything else!” he chuckled kindly.<br/>
</p>
<p>----------------------<br/>
</p>
<p>If the boys had but known it, at the head of the column James had actually heard every word of their exchange, even though he knew that he shouldn’t eavesdrop.  Under normal circumstances, he wouldn’t dream of invading others’ privacy like that just because he could, but in Blair’s case, he felt compelled to listen in, concerned at how the young man was faring.  He did indeed feel guilty at dragging the boy along with the contingent, even though he was loath to try and do without him.  As a translator Blair was indispensible, and as usual his very presence worked its wonders on grounding James’ senses.  But at the same time, it wasn’t going to be easy on Blair to have to face his half-brothers, even if there was no way James would allow them – or the Lady Alise – to belittle the boy in his presence.  And even if he had no intention of letting Blair get involved in the upcoming attack on the robber gang, he was still concerned that he was putting Blair in unnecessary danger simply by being in the general area.  
</p>
<p>However, all such thoughts were put aside as the head of the column reached the brow of a hill, and he saw Whittingham Manor laid out below him.  It was time to act, however distasteful it was likely to be, so nodding grimly to ap Owain, he spurred Ajax on, and they closed inexorably in on their destination, making a brave sight for the serfs as they passed by, and no doubt a worrying one for the Whittingham family presently ensconced within the manor’s walls.<br/>
</p>
  </div></div>
<a name="section0009"><h2>9. A Savage Reckoning</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p><b>Part 9: A Savage Reckoning: </b><br/>
</p><p>Shortly afterwards, James rode into the manor’s stable yard with a small delegation made up of ap Owain, Sir Maurice, his standard bearer, Henry and Blair, who was there to make sure that ap Owain received a full translation of the discussion which was about to take place.  The rest of the force remained outside the moated area, ready to act on whatever orders arose from the inevitably contentious interview with Sir Oliver.  Dismounting gracefully from Ajax, James imperiously threw the reins at a waiting groom while he waited for his companions to do the same.  As soon as they were all ready, he marched up to the manor house door where a decidedly anxious-looking Sir Oliver awaited them, his mother and younger brother hovering nervously behind him.
</p><p>As James’ standard bearer took up a position at attention beside the door, Sir Oliver and his brother Edward bowed courteously while the Lady Alise dropped a deep curtsy.  
</p><p>Eyes shifting nervously between his visitors, Sir Oliver offered James a rather sickly smile as he greeted him.  “Welcome to Whittingham Manor, my lord.  This is a pleasant surprise!”
</p><p>“I somehow doubt that!” James replied dryly, a grimly sardonic smirk clouding his handsome face.  “Information has come to my attention regarding your activities that needs to be explained, and with no excuses!  And without delay!”
</p><p>Definitely worried now, Sir Oliver bowed his guests into the hall and signalled for servants to bring refreshment.  Although plainly discomfited, Lady Alise still managed to cast an incendiary glance in Blair’s direction, clearly incensed at his presence, only to have James catch her eye.  The coldly repressive stare was enough to make her blush and drop her eyes in fear and mortification, for once having to swallow her pride and meekly accept the Lord of Handlow’s disapproval.  
</p><p>Noting the wordless exchange and fearing that his mother had worsened the situation even more, Sir Oliver coughed nervously to divert Sir James’ attention to himself and smiled obsequiously.  
</p><p>“Um, may I offer you and your party some wine, my lord?   And my lord ap Owain?”
</p><p>James nodded briskly and accepted the goblet that the servant held out to him, as did ap Owain, although Sir Maurice, Henry and Blair refused politely.  The last thing Blair wanted to do was draw more attention to himself, already somewhat on edge because of both the location and the weighted atmosphere.  He had expected some sort of rebuff from the Whittingham family, but even so, Lady Alise’s silent malice had unsettled him more than he liked to admit.   
</p><p>As far as James was concerned, there was very little more this family could do to worsen the situation for themselves, so as soon as he had drained his cup, he handed it back to the waiting servant and laid straight in to the now almost cringing Sir Oliver.  Holding nothing back in his disdain, he told the young man exactly what he had learned from Gryffydd ap Owain regarding the source of the latest rash of robberies and raids, demanding what Sir Oliver thought he was doing, if he had indeed thought at all.  And while Blair translated rapidly for ap Owain, whose Norman French was basic at best, he ordered the man to tell all.
</p><p>Realising that he had made a grave and stupid error of judgement, almost certainly egged on by his mother’s waspish temper and misplaced pride, Sir Oliver confessed to allowing the robber gang to make their hideout in the forests on Whittingham’s borders, selfishly considering only his own and his tenants’ well-being over that of his lord’s and his neighbours.  Such a narrow-minded and self-serving attitude was unforgivable for certain, especially in a knight of Sir Oliver’s standing, but even so, James’ instinct told him that the man truly hadn’t really considered the repercussions of his decision.  Sir Oliver was plainly lacking in both the intelligence and the integrity of his father, while being too easily influenced by his mother’s ambitions.  However, he was prepared to put off any decision as regards the man’s punishment until the robber gang had been dealt with, that being his priority now.  
</p><p>He therefore ordered Sir Oliver to call his hearth knights together immediately and prepare to ride out with James and his small force, while acting as guide to lead them to the exact location of the camp.   And even as the younger knight hurried to obey, he realised that it was up to him to make a good showing now, in the hope that it might alleviate some of his lord’s anger and disgust towards him, and perhaps lessen the punishment he knew he had coming.  Not for the first time he cursed himself for listening to the Lady Alise’s frequently malevolent advice and suggestions, but what was done was done, and if he survived to see this latest miscalculation through to its conclusion, he swore to himself that this was the last time he would ever do so.<br/>
</p><p>-------------------------<br/>
</p><p>Some while later, the contingent continued on its way, its ranks swollen by the Whittingham knights and with Sir Oliver in the van, leading the way to the robbers’ lair.  In all honesty, James was reluctantly impressed by Sir Oliver’s new attitude.  Being forced into a corner had appeared to ignite a spark of courage in the man that James hadn’t expected to witness, even though he had no intention of letting either Sir Oliver or his family off the hook because this time their misconduct was too great.  
</p><p>At the edge of the forest, Sir Oliver held up his hand, and the column halted behind him.  With ap Owain at his side and Blair close behind, James rode up to join him.
</p><p>“How far away are we now?” he asked, deliberately keeping his voice down as if to avoid being overheard by unwanted ears lurking in the immediate neighbourhood, even though he trusted his own hearing to warn him in advance should anyone approach.  
</p><p>Sir Oliver smiled a little warily as he replied, “The camp is about a mile or so into the forest, my lord, close to where the stream shallows and divides to surround a small island.  I believe it used to be the home of a hermit many years ago, long before my grandfather came to Whittingham.  Rudlan, the gang leader, has taken over that spot, while the rest of them are camped on the stream’s banks on either side of the shallows.  The trees and undergrowth in the surrounding area are thick around the camp’s perimeter so they afford plenty of cover.”
</p><p>James looked thoughtful, his military mind already working on a plan of action.  “I believe I know the spot,” he mused.  “I think I visited it not long after I arrived at Handlow whilst on a tour of my new estates, along with your father, Sir Herbert.  It’s not a particularly good place to use cavalry tactics, but if we can flush them out by using Lord ap Owain’s men, we can cut them down as they flee.  What do you say, Lord Gryffydd?”
</p><p>As Blair translated rapidly, the Welsh lord nodded grimly, the fire of battle already glinting in his grey eyes.  “Yes, I agree,” he growled as Blair translated his reply for James and Sir Oliver.  “My warriors are skilled in woodcraft and stealth, and will be more than up to the task.  If you disperse your knights as you require, we will drive the scum out to you to be slaughtered like the rats that they are!”
</p><p>James grinned wolfishly in response, and held out his hand to ap Owain to grasp in a gesture of solidarity.  “Thank you, Lord Gryffydd.  And may God be with us all this day!”<br/>
</p><p>---------------------<br/>
</p><p>Shortly after, James and his men watched as ap Owain’s warriors disappeared noiselessly and stealthily into the forest.  James had dispersed his knights and men-at-arms in the clearer areas at the forest’s edge, trusting the Welshmen to drive the robbers out in their direction.  If anyone could do it, then they could, as James knew to his cost just how effective they were in these sorts of conditions.  It would be down to him and his men then to close the trap and make sure that none of the cutthroats escaped.  
</p><p>However, even though his mind was concentrated on the upcoming skirmish, he spared a thought for Blair, having ordered the young man to stay away at some safe distance from the combat.  He knew it hadn’t gone down well with the lad, who, despite his nervousness, was plainly loath to leave James’ side.  But James wouldn’t risk Blair’s safety unnecessarily, and didn’t need the added distraction of worrying about him during the fight. 
</p><p>Suddenly, James heard the first sounds of conflict within the forest, and cocked his head in a listening pose as he tracked the approach of those robbers who had survived the initial attack to flee towards their positions.  He glanced over at Sir Maurice, who was at his side, both men exchanging a wicked grin as they anticipated the coming action.
</p><p>And then the first men broke through the undergrowth, only to startle and gape at the knights waiting there for them, their expressions changing rapidly from shock to fury and desperate bravado as they came on again to meet their fate.  Knowing that they could expect no mercy, there was nothing else to do but go down fighting, and that was what they intended to do to a man.  
</p><p>The action was swift as the knights cut down their targets without pause or thought, meting out the rough justice they believed such criminals deserved.  However, even as Blair looked on, feeling sickened even though he knew the slaughter was inevitable, he screamed in horror and disbelief as a completely unexpected incident turned easy victory into a disaster.  
</p><p>An arrow, shot from the edge of the forest in a last act of defiance, struck Ajax in the chest.  The horse screamed in agony and reared up, threshing the air with his forelegs as James fought to control him, but it was too late.  The animal dropped to the ground, falling heavily on his rider as his life drained swiftly away, trapping James beneath his dead weight and leaving him at the mercy of the ragged bowman, who ran out to finish the job.  
</p><p>He never made it to his target, however, as a galloping figure burst on the scene, and a sobbing Blair slashed at the man’s unprotected neck with his dagger.  The man fell, blood spurting as he died unnoticed by the boy who threw himself down from Rowan and fell to his knees beside James.
</p><p>“Oh no!  Oh, my lord, how badly are you hurt?  Can you hear me, Sir James?” Blair cried as he unthinkingly thrust his bloody dagger back into its scabbard, his hands fluttering over James’ upper body as he tried to decide what he should do first to help the downed man.   He suddenly realised he wasn’t alone as Sir Maurice and Henry joined him, both looking as concerned, or in Henry’s case, almost as upset as Blair.  Henry gently pushed him aside as he knelt beside James’ head.
</p><p>“Let me, Blair,” he said, his tone gently commanding despite his incipient tears.  And even though Blair wanted to argue, common sense told him that Henry knew what to do, and he reluctantly sat back as Henry carefully unhooked James’ ventail and removed his helmet.  The injured man’s eyes met Henry’s, his expression clearly grateful even as they travelled to Blair’s distraught face. 
</p><p>James tried to form a few words of comfort, but found that at present it was beyond him, and couldn’t help but feel betrayed by this unforeseen turn of events.  He knew very well that he was badly injured.  The leg trapped beneath Ajax’s dead carcase was undoubtedly broken, and his ribs felt as if they had been crushed too.  There was little hope that he would survive for long, and it angered him that he would never get to fulfil his desires and take Blair for his own.  All he could do was to try and convey his deep affection and gratitude for the young man’s help and friendship in his expression, knowing that his consciousness was fading fast.
</p><p>And he was deeply unconscious by the time Sir Maurice had had his lord freed and placed on a quickly prepared litter, ready to be transported back to Whittingham along with the other injured.
</p><p>The only other casualties; apart from the robbers, who were left to lie where they fell; were a handful of the Welsh warriors, none of whom was seriously injured, and who were able to ride pillion back to safety.
</p><p>As for Blair, he and Henry rode beside James’ litter, each wrapped up in his own dismal thoughts as they contemplated a life without their beloved lord and master. <br/></p>
  </div></div>
<a name="section0010"><h2>10. A Fading Hope</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p><b>Part 10: A Fading Hope:</b><br/>
</p><p>By the time the troop arrived back at Whittingham Manor, James was drifting in and out of consciousness, the pain of his injuries jarring him awake before sending him spiralling back down into comforting oblivion.  However, he remained conscious long enough to demand to return to Handlow Castle, rather than being treated at the manor, because the last thing he wanted was to remain under the Lady Alise’s roof and subject to her questionable care.  He was therefore transferred to a more comfortable covered cart, padded with thick furs and pillows for the short trip to the castle, and Blair insisted on riding with him, holding his hand and bathing his forehead as James bit down determinedly on the groans of distress that wanted to escape his throat.  
</p><p>However, if the truth were known, Blair did more to comfort James than all the pillows and padding; the young man’s presence alone allowing James to control his pain to a certain extent, whereas without it, he would surely be in pure agony.  
</p><p>When they arrived at the castle, Lady Caroline was ready and waiting, having been informed of her husband’s condition by a messenger sent ahead.  Deeply concerned, she had had their bed made ready to receive him, and had also prepared bandages and heated water to wash and bind his wounds.  However, she well knew that setting bones was beyond her capability, and so had summoned Handlow’s chirurgeon to attend James.  The man was reasonably capable; having dealt with battle injuries for many years; so she had to hope that he was skilled enough to save James’ leg, because a man of action like her husband, even if he survived, would be devastated by such a disability.  
</p><p>As James was lifted from the cart as gently as possible, he refused to let go of Blair’s hand, so Caroline had no choice but to let the lad accompany them up to the lord’s chamber.  And in truth, she wasn’t too put out, because she accepted that there was something special between James and the boy, and since it didn’t impinge on her family and position, she had come to terms with it.  After all, Blair was so good with her children, and his presence seemed to calm her husband’s sometimes volatile temper, so she tolerated him with commendable equanimity.
</p><p>She felt no such equanimity when she saw the extent of James’ injuries, however, and knew instinctively that he had little chance of surviving even as she determinedly pushed that dismal thought to the back of her mind.
</p><p>After James had been carefully undressed and bathed as best as possible, the chirurgeon examined him carefully, the grim frown on his lined face evidence of his concern.  The leg wasn’t just broken, but was a compound fracture, and after setting it, the wound would still be susceptible to infection.  James’ ribs were cracked rather than broken, but would still cause him considerable pain, and Caroline was glad that she had a supply of poppy juice on hand with which to dose James whenever he needed it.
</p><p>It was as well that James passed out before the initial treatment was completed, because the pain would have been horrendous, but once it was done, all Blair and Lady Caroline could do was wait; offering broth and watered wine when the patient required and changing dressings regularly.  
</p><p>As the days passed, James’ wounds appeared to be healing, and for the most part he was lucid and determined to rule from his bedchamber, knowing that between them, William of Chester, Sir Maurice and his wife were more than capable of maintaining a generally satisfactory state of affairs both within the castle, in Handlow town and his wider estates.  The fact that he had run a tight ship during his stewardship meant that for the most part there were few areas as yet where the lord’s physical presence was required, which in itself testified to the quality of his leadership.  However, the longer he was confined to his sickbed, the more difficult it was to deal with more pressing business, such as deciding what to do about Sir Oliver and his family.  It aggravated him intensely whilst at the same time giving the Whittingham family some small respite while they waited to learn their fate.  They knew it was only postponing the inevitable, but were grateful for small mercies.
</p><p>He was able to receive visitors at that time, and was gratified when Owain Daffyd and Gryffydd ap Owain came to see him, both to wish him well and to assure him that their truce was still good.  It was an unexpected and generous gesture on their part, and he appreciated it even as it made him more determined to do something about strengthening the relationship between them.
</p><p>Unfortunately however, despite several days of tentative hope on his carers’ part, it became obvious that James’ friends and family’s relief was to be short-lived, as infection finally set in in his leg wound.  Each visit by the chirurgeon left the man looking grimmer and more pessimistic, telling Lady Caroline that even if James agreed to have his leg amputated after all, it was most probably too late to stop the spread of the infection, and he would be unlikely to survive the procedure anyway.  Only a miracle could save her husband now, but still she refused to despair until forced to do so.  She hated to think that she might be about to be widowed for a second time, and this time by a husband who she had grown to care for and respect very much; a husband, moreover, who had gifted her with two beautiful children.
</p><p>So she and her ladies tended to the injured man assiduously, although she freely admitted that she welcomed being able to share the burden, and with two young men in particular.
</p><p>During the whole time of James’ confinement to his chamber, Blair and Henry had also tended to their lord ceaselessly, sleeping on straw pallets on the floor so as to be on hand whenever they were needed.  Although Blair had inherited Marcel’s wall chamber, he rarely returned there except to get a change of clothing or to gather up his writing materials should James need to dictate a letter or document.  He had also reverted to wearing his monkish robe, as it was the most convenient garment to wear for the duration of his vigil.  And it had to be said that his friendship with Henry, although already firm, had deepened and strengthened as they shared the task of caring for the man they both admired and loved, if in slightly different ways.  
</p><p>However, as James’ health worsened, and his periods of delirium became more frequent, all those dear to him began to bow under the strain.  It was particularly hard on little Margot, because although baby William was too young to know any better, she was confused and tetchy with not being able to have her beloved father talk and play with her, and often had to be forcibly prevented from climbing onto the bed.  Indeed, despite his own deep distress, it was Blair who provided the most help in that respect, as Caroline had to admit, since the young man was always ready to cuddle the little girl and tell her stories to distract her while they sat at her father’s bedside.
</p><p>Although for a while James’ appetite had improved, now it was getting more and more difficult to get him to take anything other than broth, and his previously impressive body was rapidly wasting away as he burned with fever.  Despite Blair’s beneficial presence, his mind began to wander as his periods of lucidity became fewer and further between; the doses of poppy juice becoming necessary whether he wanted it or not.
</p><p>Finally, on a stormy night when rain beat against the shutters of the sick chamber, James roused enough to see Blair holding his hand, feeling the moisture of tears on his skin as the young man wept silently, gazing longingly at his lord’s haggard face as he murmured almost soundlessly.
</p><p>“Oh my lord, please, please don’t die!  What will we do without you?  You have to live, my lord.  I…I…love you, Sir James.  I…I…don’t know what it is between us, but I love you.  Need you.  Please, <i>please</i> don’t die!”
</p><p>Too weak to respond verbally, yet James fought to stay awake; to follow that siren voice and reassure his beloved young friend that he wasn’t going anywhere.
</p><p>But it was so hard.  So hard to hold on while the comforting darkness beckoned enticingly.  And even as he tried to squeeze the smaller hand clutching his, his vision tunnelled as he sank into oblivion, his hearing still trying to cling to the rich, compelling but fading tones.  <br/></p>
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<a name="section0011"><h2>11. 'All's Well...'</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p><b>Part 11: ‘All’s Well…’ </b><br/>
</p><p>“Jim, man, come on!  You can do it, lover.  Please come back.  It’s been way too long, Big Guy!”
</p><p>Jim determinedly fought his way out of the darkness surrounding him, as ever unable to resist that voice and its owner’s heart-felt pleas.  Despite feeling absolutely dreadful, he knew he needed to open his eyes and show Blair that he was still here, and not going anywhere.
</p><p>With a huge effort, he managed to crack open his eyes to a slit, and blearily tried to focus on the apparition sitting at his bedside, holding his hand and plaintively urging him to come back.
</p><p>Choosing not to let his young friend know that he was conscious just yet, needing to take a moment to himself to take stock of the situation, he carefully observed the man at his side, shocked by what he saw.  Blair’s face was drawn with exhaustion and anxiety, his lank curls pulled back into a tight ponytail and his unshaven and haggard face looking as if he had aged a good ten years.  His eyes were red-rimmed, blood-shot and puffy with weeping, although at that precise moment he was rubbing his free hand over them so had not yet noticed Jim’s examination.  Not only that, but his flannel shirt looked like it had been slept in.  
</p><p><i>Slept in?  Huh?  Flannel shirt??</i>  Startled, Jim’s eyes flew open and flicked around, the dim light in his hospital room temporarily hiding his return to consciousness from his exhausted friend.  
</p><p>For several moments, Jim felt completely disorientated.  Whereas he had expected to wake up in his bed in the lord’s chamber at Handlow Castle, instead he was in a hospital room, undoubtedly at night-time, and his dear young scribe’s place was taken by an older version of his guide, life-partner and generous-hearted lover.  The other half of his soul.
</p><p>Even as Blair became aware of Jim’s bemused gaze, Jim was determinedly trying to shake off the remnants of what must have been one hell of a dream.
</p><p>But then his whole attention was taken up by his lover’s reaction, and suddenly, despite the obvious signs of care and deep anxiety, Blair’s face lit up with hope and joy, and was undoubtedly the most beautiful sight Jim had ever seen.
</p><p>“Oh man!  Oh Jim!  You’re awake!  Oh, thank the Goddess!  I knew you could do it, lover, I <i>knew</i> it!”
</p><p>Blair was babbling in his excitement, causing Jim’s eyes to crinkle in affectionate amusement despite his discomfort.
</p><p>“How’s your head, man?  And your throat?  Man, you must be so thirsty!” and the young man reached for a glass and a straw even as he spoke.
</p><p>Jim responded with an eager nod and a small smile, grateful for the cool water as it soothed the rawness in his dry throat.  As soon as he indicated that he had had enough, Blair replaced the glass on the nightstand and studied Jim’s face greedily, his relief clear even as he reached over to gently stroke Jim’s brow.  
</p><p>“Oh, man, you really had me scared,” Blair confessed, his voice catching as he impatiently swiped at yet another tear that spilled from his eye.  
</p><p>Feeling guilty, Jim swallowed in an attempt to further lubricate his dry throat.  But luckily they knew each other so well by now that he didn’t need to utter more than an occasional word in order to communicate with his empathic lover.  
</p><p>“How?”
</p><p>Blair frowned worriedly for a moment.  “What do you remember, Jim?  Do you remember the drug bust in the warehouse district?”
</p><p>Jim’s brow crinkled in thought, then his face cleared a little.  “I think so…but?” he rasped, his expression asking for a little enlightenment as he glanced around the room.
</p><p>Blair nodded understandingly, and began to explain.  “OK, man.  Well, we’d rounded up the perps without a shot being fired, when Rawlinson – you remember Rawlinson? – he broke away and made an attempt to escape up a gantry.  You ran after him, but…but it collapsed!  Goddess!  I was so scared!  He was killed, but you managed to break your fall some, although your right side’s banged up a bit.  Nothing broken, but you hit your head when you landed…and you wouldn’t wake up!”
</p><p>At that point his face crumpled, betraying his fear and pain even as Jim squeezed his hand in mute apology and comfort.  
</p><p>“How long?” he rasped.
</p><p>“Four days, Jim.  It’s been four days,” his still tearful lover whispered.  
</p><p>Jim shook his hand to gain his attention again.  “Sorry, Chief.  You?”
</p><p>This time Blair grinned as he replied.  “’M OK, man, honest.  ‘Specially now!  I haven’t been alone all the time.  The gang’s dropped by whenever they could.  Simon, Megs, Joel, H and Rafe have all been by as well as a lot of other guys.  They’ve all been worried about you, and have spelled me when I needed to take bathroom breaks or freshen up some.”
</p><p>Jim gazed at him pensively.  <i>Yeah, but I can tell that you’ve been here the whole time, babe.  What did I do to deserve you?</i>
</p><p>Unaware of Jim’s thoughts, his lover continued, “You know, while you were unconscious, the EEG readings suggested that there was an awful lot of brain activity going on, Jim.  Which was why the docs couldn’t understand why you wouldn’t wake up.   But you are now, so that’s good, isn’t it?” the young man continued, his love and affection making even reddened eyes shine.  
</p><p>“Guess I should let them know you’re back with us again, huh?” he asked, and Jim nodded and grinned, so glad to see the visible lifting of Blair’s spirits as he turned away to press the call button. 
</p><p>For a few seconds, he pondered on the incredibly clear images in his mind’s eye, wondering at the detail of his ‘dream’ – if that was what it was – before consigning it to distant sentinel memory.  For a moment he also considered if he would ever tell Blair about it, deciding that he probably would eventually, but not just now.
</p><p>But as he gazed at Blair, enjoying the glow of love, relief and happiness suffusing the beloved features and softening the lines of care, he couldn’t help but wonder if in a castle chamber somewhere in twelfth century England, another young face was wearing that same expression.
</p><p>He truly hoped it was so. <br/>
</p><p>
  <b>The End</b>
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